The Resurrection of Evil (sequel to Minnehaha Falls)
by calliarcale
Summary: After regenerating into his eighth body, the Doctor tries to rejoin Terri in her old hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota. But the TARDIS tries to land in the middle of a Quickening, and something goes very, very wrong. Each chapter goes with a verse from the Alan Parsons Project album "Turn of a Friendly Card" if you're looking for a soundtrack for this story. ;-)
1. Episode One

_This is a sequel to "Masque of the Baron" and "Minnehaha Falls". It takes place just a day or so later. From a Doctor Who perspective, it takes place right after the 1996 movie starring Paul McGann. From a Highlander perspective, it's somewhere between "Comes a Horseman/Revelations 6:8" and "Indiscretions"._

 **EPISODE ONE: The Birth**

 _"I don't wanna live here no more,_

 _I don't wanna stay_

 _Ain't gonna spend the rest of my life,_

 _Quietly fading away"_

 _\- "Games People Play," the Alan Parsons Project_

The darkness surrounds you, enfolds you in its silence. You cannot see, you cannot touch, you cannot hear, you cannot taste. You are nothing here. This is the eternal void.

You are not alone in the blackness, and you are constantly reminded of this by the soundless cries of the beasts crawling through the perpetual murk. Although you can touch nothing, there is some sensation here; there is a vague feeling every time one of the worms slips soundlessly by. And there is pain whenever one sinks its fangs into your - we shall call it living - essence.

You scream, but it does no good.

The scream rings in your mind, but the creature cannot hear, and it does not let off until it remembers in its dim way that you are not good to eat. It has tried before, although the concepts of before and after are muddled here.

Because of this you cannot tell how long you have been here. But you have been in this prison for a time, and that is enough. Desire burns within your breast, or whatever would be your breast if you had a physical presence here. Desire to escape this prison, desire to avenge your death; but most of all, a raging desire to live.

And so you wait patiently for an exit, a return to life.

It's only a matter of time.

* * *

Rhieinwylydd walked briskly along the bank of the Minnesota River, beneath the oak and aspen of Fort Snelling State Park. Her long blonde hair poked out of the back of her Twins baseball cap and swung back and forth, marking time.

The morning air was still crisp with the last of spring; in Minnesota, the sharp cool persists even in early May. And so Rhieinwylydd wore running pants and a matching jacket for her daily constitutional.

A red-winged blackbird called out. Rhieinwylydd paused in the shadow of the vast Mendota Bridge, far above, and inhaled deeply. With so few people in the park this early, it was easy to forget that she was in heart of the Twin Cities, home to several million human beings.

She thrust her hands into her pockets and looked up at the cliff face far above. Fort Snelling perched on top, overlooking the confluence of the Minnesota and the Mississippi. It had stood there since before the Civil War, but chance had kept it from being tested in battle.

Rhieinwylydd allowed her mind to wander back into the past, forgetting that she was in the twentieth century, and imagined that she were once more tending the sick at the village of Pig's Eye and at the Dakota Sioux camp, not far from where she stood now...

{Pig's Eye himself was still alive, and ran a liquor store. The soldiers came down and got drunk, then stumbled on their way back to the fort. This made Father Galtier very angry. He ran the Log Chapel of Saint Paul, and would rather there were no liquor here at all. Some of the townsfolk, drawn by the mission rather than the saloon, were talking of renaming the town Saint Paul. It seemed to make much more sense. Meanwhile, there was another bout of German measles in the Dakota camp, but no one wanted to help Rhieinwylydd care for them...}

A 747 screamed overhead, wrenching her mind back to the present. She turned to watch the jet glide gently in to the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport.

And then it came.

It filled her mind with the rushing, whirling, confusion that presaged another Immortal. Rhieinwylydd felt her senses automatically snap to their fullest extension. In one smooth motion, she unzipped her jacket and drew her sword.

"Who's there?" she called. "I am Rhieinwylydd. Who are you?"

A man emerged from around a bend in the pathway. He was about five foot eight, with dishwater blond hair and an unremarkable face. He wore a long grey overcoat. In his hands he carried a naked broadsword.

"My name is Edward Chevalier. There can be only one."

A growl built in Rhieinwylydd's throat. "Then get ready to fight for it!"

The sound of metal on metal rang across the early morning stillness.

* * *

The Time Rotor scraped its way up and down in the center of the console, marking out the minutes until the TARDIS reached its destination. The only other sounds were a calm background hum and a scratchy phonograph recording of Edith Piaf singing "La Vie En Rose."

A young man in an Edwardian frock coat sat next to the phonograph in a large, threadbare armchair, reading a book of poetry. His slender form was folded into the chair, giving him the impression of one who had been sitting there a very long time.

A soft tone rang out from the console. The rotor stopped.

The Doctor looked up. A smile broke across his placid features. He set the book aside and leapt easily out of the chair, pausing only to turn off the phonograph.

"Excellent!" he said, rubbing his hands together briskly as he strode across to the console. He peered at the instrumentation.

Then something went disastrously wrong.

* * *

Rhieinwylydd felt her hands slip briefly on the hilt of her sword and knew that she was falling behind. Something deep inside of her rebelled at this, and she felt a surge of energy ride up into her arms for one last, desperate attempt.

-I'm damned if I'm gonna die here, she thought, and snarled. The snarl turned into a yell, and the yell into a shriek as she swung at her attacker with all her might.

But it was not enough.

In her mad rush, she overextended herself, and Edward knocked the sword from her hands. For a moment, she stood there staring dumbly at her empty hands. Then, exhausted, she fell to her knees.

A bird sang in the distance. The beginnings of rush hour could be heard on the bridge far above. The air was filled with the rich, loamy smells of spring. Rhieinwylydd did not want it to end, and for a moment it seemed that it would not.

Edward spoke. "There can be only one."

Then everything went white, flaring up in an instant before disappearing forever.

* * *

Sparks flew from the TARDIS console. The Doctor rushed around its hexagonal face. The Rotor moved an inch, then jammed. A dozen alarms were ringing simultaneously.

The Doctor flipped a switch. He was rewarded by a shower of sparks. Another claxon joined the din.

He stepped back from the console for a moment and pulled down the monitor. His brows knit together. "That's odd," he muttered, peering at the readout. "Artron energy flux?"

The Doctor pondered a moment, his fingers clasped on his chin, seemingly unaware of the noise. Then he dove under the console and began sorting through the jumble of wires inside.

In the distance, the cloister bell tolled, its deep and somber tone ringing clear through the chaos in the console room.

* * *

It began with St. Elmo's Fire, hovering ghostlike around the still form of the dead Immortal. Then the wind came, lifting Edward's hair and drying the sweat from his face. He took a deep breath and gripped his sword firmly in both hands.

Lightning crackled through the forest, skittered madly across the shallow river, and drew sparks from the bridge far above. Sympathetic vibrations shot through the electromagnetic spectrum, sending a burst of static across the FM bands. Edward shouted incoherently, the sound lost within the whirlwind.

And then it changed.

Light bent, swirled around the ghostlike form of a blue police box, floating ten feet away from Edward. It drew the eldritch lightning towards it, and then reflected the power back tenfold. The landscape shimmered horribly, reality flickering on and off like a faulty flourescent light. Time effects shivered in and out of existence.

A trilobite swam through the air and the flowered stalks of crinoids waved gently in the maelstrom, then faded away. A herd of buffalo drank at the river, became a herd of mastadons, then sank into the river and vanished. A deep grinding noise shuddered through the madness, and the ghostly police box faded in and out. The air stank of ozone.

* * *

A circuit blew and a puff of smoke emerged from deep within the TARDIS console. The alarms had mostly subsided, with the sole exception of the cloister bell, which echoed down the infinite corridors of the TARDIS.

The Doctor stuck his head above the console and flicked a switch. Nothing happened.

"And I just fixed that," he said quietly, shaking his head.

He straightened up, brushing invisible dust from his velvet coat. "Well," he said. "There's just one thing left to try."

He set the console to manual and began programming the architectural configuration.

* * *

The blackness is still there, all around you.

But now you can see, for there is a fire building, roaring with power and life. The blind worms shy away from it, their teeth glistening with the reflection of the blaze.

You smile, and move closer to the fire.

It is warm and comforting. You move closer still, and a force unreckoned with takes hold of you, pulling you into the heart of the blazing glory.

It burns, and you scream in pain.

Your essence bubbles and boils as the non-world around you fades from blackness into oblivion. For a moment, all you can think is that you were cheated, wronged. This is not an exit; this is death.

* * *

The wind was focusing now on the ghostly police box. The time effects were fading. Space itself was distorting now, bending and even folding in places. The swirling strangeness of the Time Vortex showed through the gaps.

A tremendous bolt of lightning leapt out from Edward's extended sword and grounded itself on the transient blue box. He screamed one last scream. The grinding noise increased in volume. There was a popping sound.

Then it was over.

Reality snapped back into place as though it had never been gone. The birds were still keeping well away, but apart from that it seemed a perfectly normal morning in May. The ghostly police box had vanished, taking with it the temporal distortions.

Edward collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily.

* * *

But then it is over. The fire is gone, and with it the pleasure so intense you had thought it to be pain.

You open your eyes to sunlight and cry out with relief. You laugh and sob at the same time until the tears run down your cheeks and mingle with the dust upon which you lie, turning it to mud.

* * *

The Doctor held his finger poised over the button to delete a portion of the TARDIS interior. But then, all of a sudden, a tremendous surge lit up the Rotor and it moved.

He stared blankly at it for several seconds before realizing that the cloister bell had stopped. A smile crept across his features. "Well, that's a relief. Now...where are we going?"

The Time Rotor scraped smoothly up and down, its rhythm a welcome change. But a look at the instrumentation showed a new problem.

"Oh, dear," said the Doctor. He sighed deeply.

The curious energy surge had given the TARDIS enough energy to break out of the Vortex distortions caused by the artron energy flux. But it had also caused a temporal displacement in the destination setting.

He was going to land in exactly the right place, but two months late. And it would be far too risky to take off again before a complete diagnostic of all the TARDIS systems.

The Doctor shrugged and let the TARDIS take him where it would.

* * *

After a time, you lift your head from the muddy soil.

Your happiness is unbounded, for you are alive again. The birds are singing in the distance, and your veins are singing with life.

As you draw yourself to your feet, you breathe in the crisp morning air. You have control again, which means you have life again. And you are Immortal.

You have power. And this time you have the chance to use it.

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	2. Episode Two

**EPISODE TWO: We Meet Again**

 _"Time, flowing like a river  
Time, beckoning me . . . ."  
\- "Time," the Alan Parsons Project_

With a shuddering groan, the TARDIS faded into existence, standing flush with the concrete pier of the Mendota Bridge. After a moment, the Doctor stepped out, pausing to lock the door behind him.

He looked around. The afternoon sun filtered gently through the trees. A mesmerizing hum rose from the cicadas, their pitch measuring the heat of July. Oblivious to the summer warmth, the Doctor straightened his velvet coat and began walking towards the trailhead at Fort Snelling.

-Terri will be furious, he thought. Terri Johnson was the Doctor's latest travelling companion, a 29-year old human he'd met in Paris 1994. He had left her here in the Twin Cities to do a bit of shopping while he ran an errand for the Time Lords, an errand that he had to run alone: transporting the Master's remains back to Gallifrey.

But the Master was a cunning old fox, and wasn't as dead as anyone had thought. Like Morbius before him, the Master had survived disintegration. The ensuing battle had cost the Doctor a life, and nearly cost him the lives of his friends.

Now he was back to pick Terri up as promised. With the difficulties the TARDIS had been having since dropping off Grace and Lee, he supposed it was lucky there had been only a temporal displacement. Especially after that curious surge in the Vortex.

"Oh well," he sighed, and picked up his pace. There was no chance of using the TARDIS to find Terri. He would have to find her the old-fashioned way. On foot.

* * *

Terri Johnson sat waiting on the terrace of the California Cafe, sipping at an iced tea and gazing out at the amusement park below. The restaurant was located on the third floor of the Mall of America, and its terrace was set far above the trees and spun sugar of Knott's Camp Snoopy, the indoor amusement park. The roller coaster rumbled past. Terri smiled, watching the young people scream with unfettered joy.

-I wish I could still scream for joy, she thought. Travelling with the Doctor had changed all that. -Some things just aren't frightening once you've seen a Dalek.

She sighed, wondering when her friend would arrive. After wandering the mall for a few hours, killing time before his plane flight to Seacouver, they had split up to do some independent shopping. -I hope he hasn't gotten himself into trouble, she thought.

Terri shook her head, causing her red ponytail to catch on her collar. She flicked it back absently.

A thought struck her, and she worried about her friend even more. For her friend was Methos, a 5,000 year old Immortal who never explained himself to anyone. -What if he's met another Immortal? Maybe he won't be making his flight after all.

She shivered. Once, before she had met the Doctor, before she had learned what Methos really was, she had been a Watcher. She had seen the Game as something natural, as That Which Had To Be. Now it frightened her almost as much as a Dalek.

The roller coaster rumbled past again. She took another sip from her tea and closed her eyes.

"Terri!"

She jumped, spilling tea all over her lap. "That's the second time you've done that this week," she said, standing up and wiping herself off with her napkin. When she looked up, Methos was looking at her with an apologetic look in his deep brown eyes.

"Sorry," he said, sitting down across from her and scooping up the menu.

"So," Terri said, sitting back down and attempting to sound casual, "what took so long?"

He looked up and shrugged. "I guess I got lost."

"The Mall of America is a square."

He dropped the menu. "So I got lost deliberately."

Terri raised her eyebrow, but had no time to reply, for the waiter had arrived. After some deliberation, she chose a chicken and pasta dish. Methos picked an unusal pizza.

When the waiter had left, Terri leaned across the table and asked Methos again what had happened.

He met her gaze. She stared back, trying to gage the emotion in his eyes. But she failed.

"There's another Immortal here."

-Oh, crud, she thought.

"Oh, don't worry," Methos said. Terri bit her lip guiltily. -I didn't know I was that transparent, she thought. "I know when to make a swift exit. I was late because I went round the long way."

Terri found herself smiling with relief. "Sorry, Methos," she said. "It's just . . . I'd missed you, and now I've only had you back for a week. I didn't want . . . ."

"Yes, mother," he said. Terri felt her smile break into a broad grin and started to giggle.

When she had gotten control of herself, she said, "Well. I certainly hope you eat your vegetables and drink your milk, young man."

This provoked another round of giggles, broken only by the arrival of their salads.

* * *

"Johnson, Johnson, Johnson . . .," muttered the Doctor as he thumbed through a telephone book in the north lobby of the Mall of America. A pocketful of change had persuaded the city transit to take him here.

A tuft of curly brown hair fell in his eyes and he brushed it back. -Got to get used to this hair, he thought. -Maybe I'd be better off cutting it.

"Johnson, Terence; Johnson, Terrell . . . aha! Johnson, Terri!"

His face fell.

"Oh dear."

There were six Terri Johnsons in the Minneapolis area. And he had no idea where she lived or even what her middle name was. Then it occurred to him that she might not even be listed. After all, she hadn't been in the Twin Cities for the last three years.

He checked the date on the cover. "1997. Blast," he muttered.

Sighing, he let the book fall back into its position under the telephone machines.

"Can I help you with something?"

He turned around. A rather frumpy woman in a red, white and blue uniform was smiling helpfully at him. Her nametag read, "Betsy - Mall of America Information"

"No, I don't think so," he said.

"Are you sure?" she said. "You don't sound like a native."

He grinned. "No. And I suspect everything will look better after a cup of tea. Do you know where I might find one?"

"Well," she said, "were you thinking of dinner as well?"

He thought about this for a moment.

"What do you suggest?"

* * *

Edward Chevalier stood on the ramparts of Fort Snelling, gazing at something down in the river valley with a pair of binoculars. A woman in shorts and a t-shirt stood next to him. The tourists bustled around them, trying to get a better look at the historical reenactors, who were about to fire the cannon.

He didn't care. Neither did the young woman at his shoulder. Her name was Nora Levitson. She stared across at her companion and fidgeted. He frightened her.

"So," said Edward, lowering the binoculars. "You were right; the famous Doctor is here."

The cannon fired. Nora jumped.

"Yeah," she said, affecting calm. "But why the interest? I mean . . . I had to look everywhere to find his Chronicle. And it's full of apocryphal junk."

Edward turned and grinned. "Of all people, Nora, I thought you would be the first to know."

-Why is it, she thought, that Edward can seem so cheerful and still scare the hell out of me?

But that was a silly question. She glanced down at the circular tattoo inside her left wrist and knew the answer. -Because he's an Immortal and I'm his Watcher. Because he can kill me. Because I'm in deep shit for helping him. And I don't even know why I'm doing it.

A cold, hollow feeling opened up in Nora's stomach. It wasn't the first time. She glanced across at her Immortal companion and knew that it wasn't going to be the last.

* * *

Terri dug into a burnt cream with all the relish of a marathon runner on his twenty-sixth mile. "Uff da," she said.

"Now, answer me a mystery," said Methos, who seemed to be having no trouble at all with his tiramisu.

"You want to know what 'uff da' means, right?" asked Terri.

"No," said Methos, shaking his head. "I know 'uff da.' Although I have often wondered why you don't sound like a character from 'Fargo.'"

"Travel broadens the accent," said Terri. "You know, I really should see that. I even missed it winning the Oscar."

"Oh, that's right," he said, "you were still off in limbo."

"More or less."

"Anyway, what I was wondering . . . ." He paused a moment and stared in the space above Terri's head. "You'll probably think it a bit odd to hear this question from someone like me, but I've asked this question of many different people and never gotten a satisfactory answer."

"Yes?" said Terri. "You've got my interest piqued. What can a 5,000-year old man learn from me?"

"Age isn't everything," he said. "But I'm curious; what is it that makes a man attractive to a woman?"

Terri blinked.

She blinked again.

"Well . . . ," she began, then stopped. -Dear God, she thought. I hate it when guys ask me that. But Methos asking it?

She sat there, mute.

"You can close your mouth now," he said, smirking.

"Don't even say it," she warned. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "Well, most of it is a sort of je ne sais quoi, if you know what I mean."

"No."

"Well," she said, "what a woman looks for is . . . well . . . poise, diction, and good manners. A sort of . . . ."

She broke off. A man had just come up the escalator onto the third floor, in a straight line of sight from Terri's seat. ". . . delicate bone structure, slender build, mid-thirties, wavy brown hair, silk cravat, and a velvet frock coat. And rather beat up shoes."

"I beg your pardon?" Methos looked confused for a moment, then followed her gaze. "Ah."

"Sorry," she said, only slightly embarassed. "Just caught my eye." Terri watched the tall stranger almost hypnotically, keyed to his every motion. Then the man turned. He looked straight at her.

"Um," said Terri.

The distance of fifty yards seemed inconsequential. "May the earth swallow me up," she muttered, and effected a tremendous interest in her dessert. She did not look up for fear of seeing Methos' grin.

"Terri," said Methos.

"Shut up," she said.

"Ah, Terri, I think you ought to look up now."

Reluctantly, she did. The stranger was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello, Terri."

The voice that spoke could be described as melodious, but Terri felt that such a description would fall far short of its goal. It was smooth and velvety, not unlike a good pinot noir. She looked up.

It was the handsome stranger. She looked down again. When she looked up, it was still the handsome stranger.

"Hello, Terri," he repeated. He nodded to Methos. "And it's good to see you again, Methos." The tones of his voice were couched in a distinctly Liverpudlian accent.

"Um . . . ." was all that Terri could manage.

Methos was not so afflicted. "Who are you?" he asked.

The stranger smiled. The expression was like a wave breaking all at once across his placid features, washing away all hints of sorrow and pain. "No, you wouldn't recognize me, would you?" he said. "I'm the Doctor."

Terri blinked.

She blinked again.

"The Doctor?" said Methos. "That's not possible. Besides, Terri thinks he's dead."

The stranger chuckled. "I did die. Well, sort of. But I'm a Time Lord; this is all quite normal."

Terri regained her voice. "If you're the Doctor, prove it."

He scratched his head. "Hmm . . . ." He absently reached out behind him for a chair. His hand found one, which he pulled across to the table and sat on. There was a thumping noise.

"Hey!" A woman stood up, affronted. "My purse was on that!"

The stranger stood up hastily, scooped the purse up from the floor, and returned it to the woman. "I do apologize. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm the Doctor." He bowed.

"Oh," said the woman. She seemed quite flustered all of a sudden. "Well . . . thanks." She took her purse and sat back down at her table.

The Doctor turned and sat back down between Terri and Methos. He frowned. "Now, where was I . . . ."

Terri was laughing helplessly. On an abstract level, she knew she should be annoyed with his tardiness, but she was laughing too hard to care. "Don't worry, Doctor," she said. "I think you've established your credentials."

"But you still haven't explained your appearance," said Methos.

"Well, it's a long story," began the Doctor. "It all has to do with Gallifrey, and the Time Lords' mission . . . ."

* * *

"All is ready," said Edward, watching the sun as it sank over the cars on the roof of the Mall of America parking ramp. With a smooth motion, he hoisted himself up onto the ledge, ignoring the seventy-foot drop. "The players for my final act are assembled, and nothing can stop me now."

"Um," said Nora.

"Yes?" Edward turned to face her. She had been very helpful in the past two months, ever since the change that had brought his new state of mind. It would not do to damage her. Not yet.

"I asked around about the Doctor," she said, "and nobody's seen him."

"Never mind," said Edward. "The Doctor is not important. One Immortal or another; it makes no difference."

Nora fidgeted. Edward hated that; he wished she would just for once stand still. "But there aren't any others left here."

His lips curled upwards. "There is one other here. I felt him."

"Who?"

Edward smiled at Nora for a moment. Then he threw back his head and laughed at the sky and at any gods that might be listening. The laugh rang off the concrete walls of the Mall and billowed up into the darkening sky.

He didn't know who the Immortal was. He didn't care, either.

-What does one Immortal matter, more or less?

He stopped laughing and stared out at the distant skyline of Minneapolis. A smile more sickening than his laugh crept across his features.

-After tomorrow, what will any life matter, more or less?

Beside him, Nora shivered. It was eighty degrees and humid. But she couldn't shake the cold that lay upon her heart.

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	3. Episode Three

**EPISODE THREE: Something's Rotten in the State of Minnesota**

 _"_ _There's a sign in the desert that lies to the west_  
 _Where you can't tell the night from the sunrise_  
 _And not all the king's horses and all the king's men_  
 _Have prevented the fall of the unwise"_  
 _— "The Turn of a Friendly Card (Part 1)," the Alan Parsons Project_

At night, a change comes over the Mall of America.

Between eight-thirty and nine, most of the shops close. By nine-thirty, even the big deparment stores have barred fronts and darkened windows. But people scream with delight in Knott's Camp Snoopy for another hour, finish late dinners in the fine dining establishments, sit enthralled before each of the fourteen screens in the movie theater until well past midnight, or . . . .

At night, the fourth floor begins to move. It only exists along the east side of the Mall, but from now until one AM, its chromed hallways flicker with life. Music throbs subsonically, people laugh, and bouncers keep a wary eye on all who pass.

This is the nightclub promenade. This is where one goes to dance, to drink, to revel in the euphoria of being one with the crowd. This is where the tourists often miss, and where the locals come to play.

Tonight it sang to a different tune. Between the throbbing pulses of the musicians, hidden behind the nightclub walls, a softer music was humming. There was a seductive quality to it. It sang particularily from the Turn of a Friendly Card nightclub, the newest and hottest spot on the Fourth Floor promenade.

There was always a seductive quality to the music, but this time it was different. The young people danced with a passion that went beyond euphoria and into sheer ecstasy. It was all the rage these days. The "New Music," they called it, among other things.

Edward was there, dancing right alongside.

* * *

"So," said the Doctor, "how long until your flight?"

The three of them were walking abreast down the quiet south side of the Mall. The pinkish-grey carpet swallowed up the sound of their footsteps. Around them in the evening gloom, janitors emerged to pick up the litter and vacuum the floors.

"Three hours yet," replied Methos. His hands were thrust deep into his jeans pockets. Terri smiled. It made him look endearingly harmless. -I wonder if he does that conciously, she thought. "Plenty of time to kill."

The Doctor chuckled. "Hard thing to kill," he said.

"You'd know, Doctor" said Terri, grinning. She liked this new Doctor. There was a sense of childlike joy in him. It was still a bit difficult for her to think of him as the same man as the dark little Scotsman she'd met in Paris, but there was something about him. She didn't know what it was; perhaps it was the way he cocked his head to one side. Perhaps it was the way he used language.

-No, she finally decided. -It's the eyes.

It wasn't the color. In fact, Terri had yet to decide what color to call them. It was something about the way he looked at you, with infinite understanding and at the same time complete bewilderment. The eyes of a student who is also a master. Eyes that spoke of companionship and understanding-but eyes so alien that none of these things meant anything like what they meant to her.

She was thinking so hard about the Doctor's eyes that when he stopped dead, she walked right into him.

They were level with the main south entrance to the Mall. "What is it?" Terri whispered, but the Doctor waved her to be quiet. "Don't look now, but we're being followed?" she asked.

The Doctor looked her in the eye, startled. "You knew?"

"No," said Terri, puzzled.

"Got you!" Methos called out triumphantly from somewhere behind them. Terri turned. He was holding a woman by the forearm and was pulling her out of the shadows.

Terri frowned. The woman looked familiar.

"Terri?" she said hesitantly.

"Nora?" said Terri as she squinted at the woman. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question," said Nora, pulling free of Methos. "And you. Adam Pierson, isn't it?"

"That's right," said Methos, maintaining an easy stance that left his hands free.

The Doctor stepped forward. "Excuse me, but could someone please tell me what's going on?"

Nora cocked her head, curious. "You don't fit the description."

Suddenly Terri felt her heart warm with jealousy. She blinked a few times. "Wait a sec," she said, carefully controlling her voice. "You're not my replacement, are you?"

Everything went silent.

The Doctor looked bemused. The expression on Methos' face was unreadable. Nora seemed taken aback. No one moved.

"Well," said Nora, hesitantly. "Not exactly. But I was sent to track . . . well . . . a . . . well, you know," she finished lamely.

"You know Adam's one of us, and you can trust the Doctor," Terri said.

"No I can't," replied Nora, her eyes wide. "He's Immortal."

Everything went silent again.

The Doctor broke the silence. He flashed a smile that could have melted the thickest glacier. "Don't worry, Miss . . . ?"

"Uh . . . Levitson . . . Nora Levitson . . . ," stammered the woman. Terri sympthized; who wouldn't be thunderstruck by the Doctor's new appearance?

"Don't worry, Miss Leviston," he said. "There has been a case of mistaken identity. I know about the Immortals from my friends, but I am not myself Immortal."

Nora frowned. "But . . . I thought . . . no. It's not possible. You have to be Immortal. Well, one of you does."

Terri carefully looked away from Methos, keeping her eyes firmly glued to Nora. She noticed that the young Watcher was wringing her hands furiously.

-Lady Macbeth, thought Terri. -What, will this hand ne'er be clean?

"What are you talking about?" asked Methos, stepping forward, his arms spread. "I may have been just a researcher, but I know when people are talking nonsense."

Nora looked at him, startled. "Nonsense?" she asked. "I suppose . . . ." She sagged. "I must have made a mistake. Silly, asking a pair of Watchers and their friend about an Immortal . . . ." She shook herself. "I'm sorry."

Terri reached out to Nora. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You don't look so good." Indeed, the young woman seemed pale and malnourished. Or perhaps it was just the dim lighting.

"I'm fine," she said, shrugging off Terri's hand. "I have to go now." She turned and made good speed to the down escalator.

"Goodbye," called the Doctor to her retreating form.

"Well," said Methos.

"Yes," said Terri. "Well, indeed." She looked at the Doctor. He met her eyes. She found herself smiling.

There was an adventure starting; Terri could feel it. It was just like old times again.

"So," said Methos, rubbing his hands together. "Anyone for a drink?"

* * *

It had been a challenge, squeezing through the dense crowd inside the Turn of a Friendly Card nightclub. But the three of them had made it inside. The Doctor was holding a small table against the writhing crowd while Methos got their drinks and Terri made a phone call.

"Hey, stranger! Like the coat!"

The voice tumbled out of the mass of humanity. The Doctor looked up, but could not indentify its owner. The crowd was dressed in everything from evening wear to grunge to clothing so exotic it could only be called costume wear. Lights played over the dancers and music throbbed from somewhere on the other side of the illuminated mist that hung over everything.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Reminds me of Varos," he muttered. "Too many lights."

"Hey, stranger!"

The voice had returned. The Doctor looked up. A young man in embroidered leather emerged from the press of bodies. There were rings through his ears, his lips, his nose, and even his eyebrows. A chain connected the rings in his eyebrows. Even off the dance floor, he kept bobbing in time to the music. There was a gleam in his eyes that the Doctor found disconcerting.

"Nice coat," he repeated.

"Thank you," the Doctor replied.

"Nice night," said the man.

"Yes," said the Doctor.

The man was still bobbing up and down. His jewelry swayed with every movement. The Doctor found himself watching the chain between the man's eyebrows in horrified fascination.

"So," he said, "you wanna . . . wanna hear the New Music?"

"The new music?" asked the Doctor.

"Yeah!" said the man, nodding furiously. This caused the chain to sway faster. The Doctor wondered what would happen if it got stuck on something. "You gotta have the power to hear the New Music. White Lightning. I got some."

"You do?"

"Hell, yeah!" Like a magician producing a rabbit, the man made a small white packet appear in his hands. He waved it in front of the Doctor's eyes, then made it disappear again.

It dawned on the Doctor that this man was a drug dealer. He leaned conspiratorialy forward. "I can do better than that," he said. With a flick of his wrists, a bouquet of tissue flowers appeared in his hands. Another flick, and it had become an elaborate origami bird.

"Man, you're crazy," said the dealer, laughing. "Getcha later."

"No problem," called the Doctor, as the man disappeared into the crowd, his chains and leathers making disconcerting sounds as he went. The crowd swallowed him up and the Doctor was once more alone.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. Methos had returned with their drinks.

"Where's Terri?" asked Methos. He spoke loudly, but did not shout; the Doctor supposed that, being human, Methos was accustomed to such an environment.

"Went to make a phone call," he replied. "Did they have it?"

Methos smiled. "Surprisingly, yes. So I got one too. I haven't had mulled wine in decades."

The Doctor took his glass and sipped at it. "A bit heavy on the cinammon, but then one can't have everything."

* * *

Bright white lights shone down on the cramped office space. Edward sat at the desk, his chair tipped back until it leaned against the wall. He sword lay across his knees as he ran a stone along its edge.

There was a timid knock at the door.

"Yes?" he called.

Nora stepped in. "Hi," she said. She noticed the stone. "Isn't it sharp enough already?"

He smiled. "It can always get sharper." Nora shivered. It pleased him to see her so frightened, although he knew it meant that she would soon have outlived her usefulness. -Frightened people obey, but they soon become difficult to predict.

-I wonder, thought Edward, if that's why Watchers watch Immortals. Because they - we - frighten them? Like a man trapped in an closed room watches a wasp.

"Did you find the Immortal?" he asked Nora.

She shook her head. "No. I mean . . . I found the Doctor, but it wasn't him. The last known description of him didn't match. It's got to be a coincidence. And the others with him were Watchers."

Edward looked up. This was a new development. "Perhaps you have not been as careful as you claimed."

"What . . . what do you mean?"

"Perhaps the Watchers know how you have helped me," said Edward. He set the stone aside and examined the edge of his sword. "Perhaps they know about the Immortals you have helped me to kill."

"No!" said Nora. "I mean . . . no, they can't have found out. They know . . . they think you've been lucky. That's all."

Edward set down his sword. He stood and met Nora's frightened gaze. "For your sake, my dear Nora, I sincerely hope that you're right."

* * *

Terri stepped into the Turn Of a Friendly Card, somewhat disappointed that the bouncers didn't ask for her ID. She paused to read the hand-written signs posted around the entryway.

"They blinded you with diamonds, and all the money that money can buy." "If I promised you the Moon and the Stars, would you believe it?" "We're on a wheel in perpetual motion."

The phrases sounded familiar, but she couldn't place them. In the middle, professionally printed, was another notice. "Ace of Swords plays tonight! One week only!"

Finally she shrugged and walked in. The beat of the music took over a portion of her will, and she found herself bouncing in time. She didn't mind; this group called the Ace of Swords was pretty good. It almost made her forget for a moment what she'd learned from her phone call.

After some searching, she found the Doctor and Methos, sharing a drink. She wiggled her way across the dance floor until she'd reached their table.

"Hello!" she called. They looked up.

"Sit down," said Methos. He pushed a drink across the table to her.

"Thanks," she said, pulling up a chair. She closed her eyes and drank deeply.

"What did you find out?" asked the Doctor.

She opened her eyes. She took another drink. "I called an old friend of mine in the Watchers."

"Ah," said Methos. "Any word on Nora?"

"She's assigned to Edward Chevalier," Terri replied.

"Never heard of him."

"I'm not surprised," she said, and took another sip. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and continued. "He's been around since the 1850's, but he keeps out of sight. Mostly he just does his own thing. But apparently he's got this belief that the only thing that matters is that there can be only one. When he meets another Immortal, he challenges them. Period. And so far he's been very successful."

Terri looked at Methos, but he seemed to be concentrating on his drink. "You're right, Doctor," he said. "Definitely too much cinammon."

"You're not listening," she said. Methos did not respond. She sighed. "Okay. There are several wierd things about this Chevalier guy. First, in the past two months he's killed eight Immortals, all in the Twin Cities. Some were just passing through; he shouldn't have bumped into them. But he did. And he killed them.

"Second, he owns this nightclub." Methos looked up. -Finally I have his attention, she thought. "Third, the police seem to think there's a fence trade going on here. The Watchers found out, but they've kept it from hitting the papers. So far."

She stopped and drank to the bottom of her glass.

"Terri," said the Doctor slowly, "I think they're right."

"About what?" asked Methos.

"Illicit trade here. Only I think it's a drug. A young gentleman tried to sell me some," said the Doctor. He frowned. "He called it White Lightning."

Terri gasped.

"You know of it?" asked the Doctor.

"Know of it!" She stared at him and laughed nervously. "It's in all the papers!" Her companions didn't seem to understand, so she explained. "It's a new drug. It hit the streets about a month ago, and the police have been having a terrible time with it. It's highly addictive, but its only effect seems to be a state of calm. But the kids take it when they go dancing and just go wild.

"Everybody thought it was from Chicago. That's where most of the gangs came from. I never thought . . . ."

"We have to go," said Methos.

Terri turned. Methos was sitting perched on the edge of his chair and glancing cautiously around him. "Oh, crud," she said. "Edward." Methos nodded.

"Let's go," said the Doctor.

Together they walked towards the exit. One of the bouncers pressed a card into Terri's hand, but gave her no trouble. In the doorway, Terri paused to read the card while her companions walked quickly away.

"The Game Never Ends . . . ." Terri read. She shivered, and hastened to catch up to her friends.

Behind them, Edward stood at the edge of the crowd of mad dancers. He was smiling. His teeth glittered in the lights.

* * *

The crowd was thinner on the walkway between the Mall and its east parking ramp. Terri stopped to get her breath. Methos and the Doctor had gotten there ahead of her and were waiting.

"I knew it," said Terri. "I thought there was an adventure starting. And boy, is this one a doozy."

The Doctor cocked his head at her. "A doozy?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. At least we're out of there." She put her hand on Methos' shoulder. "I don't want anything to happen to you." He looked at the hand, surprised. Eventually Terri pulled back, feeling a little foolish.

There was a shout. The three of them turned at once.

"I know him," said the Doctor.

A young man was running awkwardly down the hall towards them. He didn't slow down as he approached the glass doors separating the Mall from the walkway. He shouted again, loud enough to be heard through the double glass doors.

Terri cringed. The man smacked into the doors. The sound of his impact echoed through the walkway, followed by the soft tinkling of broken glass. By the time she opened her eyes, the Doctor was already through the doorway and examining the prostrate man.

By the time Terri and Methos had arrived, Mall security was also on its way. Three burly men in uniforms were approaching from the direction of the nightclub promenade.

"It *is* him," said the Doctor. "He tried to sell me White Lightning not ten minutes ago."

"How is he?" asked Methos, looking the unconcious man over with a professional eye. Terri wondered if he had medical training.

"Breathing's shallow. He's also fibrillating badly." The Doctor quietly removed something from the man's pocket. Terri shuddered as she noticed that the man was very into body piercing. There was even a chain between his eyebrows. It shivered. -My God, thought Terri. -He's shaking like a leaf.

By then the security guards had arrived. "We'll take over from here," one said, speaking gently into the Doctor's ear. Another shooed onlookers away while the third called for an ambulance on his walkie-talkie.

The Doctor rose slowly. "I wouldn't bother with the ambulance," he said softly. "He isn't going to need it."

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	4. Episode Four

**EPISODE FOUR: Games People Play In the Middle Of the Night**

 _"There's evil brewing, getting out of control_  
 _And I'm helpless I can't put it right_  
 _Something unrighteous is possessing my soul_  
 _And it's cold in the heat of the night."_  
 _\- "May Be a Price to Pay," the Alan Parsons Project_

The broken glass clean up had taken half an hour. The body had been removed immediately for autopsy. The Doctor, Terri, and Methos had been released as soon as it was determined that they were only bystanders, protected by the Good Samaritan Law. The police were not called; it seemed to Mall security to have been nothing more than a sudden death by natural causes. A seizure, perhaps. Or some kind of drug overdose.

That last possibility was heavy on Terri's mind as she stood with the Doctor and Methos on the balcony by the vast movie theater, which stretched all the way across the length of the South Side of the Mall, sprawled above the Third Floor food court.

Terri leaned out across the rail. Far below, the amusement park had gone dark. Security lights illuminated the pathways, but mysterious shadows played in the voids between, untouched by the lights.

"But how?" she asked. "And why?"

The Doctor did not answer right away. He stared out across the darkened fair rides with an intensity that frightened Terri. "I don't know," he said. "But I intend to find out."

-The Doctor is back, thought Terri. In spite of herself, she found herself smiling grimly. -Watch out, Edward Chevalier. The Doctor's here, and he means business.

"Meanwhile," said Methos, cutting neatly through the mood, "an avowed killer of Immortals is hanging out here. I don't want to get involved. It's time to make an exit."

The Doctor looked up, surprised. "Methos," he said, stepping back from the rail. "I don't know you as well as I could. But fair's fair; you don't know me well either. But if we don't find out what's happening and put a stop to it, lots of innocent young people are going to die. Now I don't care about your silly Game," he said, shaking his head. Terri was startled by the passion in his voice. "But I do care about people. Innocent people." The Doctor looked into Methos' eyes. Terri gave the man credit; he didn't flinch in the Doctor's implacable gaze. "People who might one day save Earth from a Dalek invasion, or develop a cure for AIDS, or write great poetry. People who deserve a fair chance to live."

He held Methos in his eyes for a moment longer, then turned away. "I . . . ." The Doctor's shoulders drooped. He walked to the edge of the stairwell leading down to the darkened third floor food court. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said, staring into the shadows below. "Do as you will."

Just then a movie got out. People began streaming out of the theater, talking animatedly about the impressive special effects. Terri ignored them. She turned to Methos. "Do what you have to," she said. "I'm sticking with the Doctor." And she weaved across the crowd until she was standing by the Time Lord.

After a time, as quickly as it had started, the crowd petered out, then disappeared entirely in a wash of candy wrappers and fallen popcorn. Terri wondered vaguely what the movie had been.

"Oh, all right," said Methos, coming to stand beside her. She smiled up at him. He scowled. "I'll stay. But if things start warming up, I'm leaving, Doctor."

The Doctor turned. His whole face was lit up in a smile. "Excellent! Let's get started, then."

* * *

The music filled the nightclub, throbbing in the air. Nora put her hands over her ears, but it didn't help. She hated the New Music and she hated Ace of Swords, which was a pity because they were covering some of her favorite songs tonight. Despite her best efforts, she found herself listening.

"There are unsmiling faces and bright plastic chains

And a wheel in perpetual motion

And they follow the races and pay out the gains

With no show of an outward emotion."

The Turn of a Friendly Card, Part One, by The Alan Parsons Project. Nora loved Alan Parsons. So, it seemed, did Edward. Ace of Swords had played this song twice already this evening.

"And they think it will make their lives easier

For God knows up till now it's been hard

But the game never ends when the whole world depends

On the turn of a friendly card."

Nora stopped listening. Suddenly she knew what it meant. "Oh, Edward . . . ." She fled the nightclub, rushing out into the chromed midnight of the fourth floor promenade.

* * *

Terri, Methos, and the Doctor meandered all over the southern end of the nightclub promenade. So far, their search had been fruitless. In deference to Methos, Terri had refused to let the Doctor return to the Turn of a Friendly Card. So instead they had moved quietly through the crowds in an effort to find another dealer.

After a time, they slumped against a shimmering pillar, disconsolate.

"This is stupid," said Terri. "We don't even know where to start." The Doctor dug in his pocket but didn't answer. After a moment he pulled something out and examined it.

"What's that?" asked Methos

"I'm not quite sure," he replied. Terri peeked. It was a small white packet.

She inhaled sharply through her teeth. "If that's what I think it is, you'd better be careful who sees it."

The Doctor smiled suddenly. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a woman's voice called his name.

"Doctor!" Terri looked around for the source of the voice.

It was Nora. She came to halt in front of them, breathing heavily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Doctor put the packet away.

"Doctor," said Nora. "You guys have gotta help me," she said.

Terri frowned. "What with?"

"It's . . . well, it's my assignment."

"What do you mean?" asked the Doctor.

"Edward Chevalier. He's . . . ." She gestured wildly with her hands. "I mean, what he's doing . . . it' s evil."

"Calm down," said Terri. "What are you trying to tell us?"

Nora looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Edward . . . he's nuts. Ever since he took Rhieinwylydd's head, he's been . . . ." She broke off and shook her head violently. "I know about our oath and all. But this is different. He's killing mortals."

"The White Lightning," said the Doctor.

"Yeah," replied Nora. "The other Watchers don't know yet, but . . . oh, god," she said. "I . . . he threatened me. He . . . ." She swayed forward. The Doctor caught her by the shoulders and supported her. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. "He made me tell him . . . where all the Immortals in the Twin Cities were living. He . . . I helped him *kill* them . . . I told him everything." She began to whimper softly.

"Miss Levitson . . . Nora," said the Doctor. "Nora! Listen to me! Edward used you. It's not your fault. Now what he's done is wrong, but you must help us. Do you understand?" She stopped whimpering but did not answer. He shook her gently, and she looked up. "Nora, Edward must be stopped. You can help."

The four of them were frozen there for a moment. The Doctor supporting Nora; Terri and Methos watching in hypnotic fascination. Then, slowly, Nora nodded.

"What is Edward doing?" asked the Doctor.

"I'm not completely sure," said Nora weakly. "At first I thought he just wanted to win the Game. But now . . . ." She sighed. Her eyes glittered with moisture. - My God, thought Terri. What did Edward do to the poor woman?

"Now what?" asked the Doctor. His voice was soft and gentle.

"He's supplying the drug," she said. "The White Lightning. Don't know much about it." She shrugged. The Doctor released her shoulders and she stood under her own power. "It's all over his club. The Turn Of a Friendly Card."

"We know," said Methos. "We were there."

She nodded. "Edward said." She looked up and met each of their eyes in turn. "He also said again that one of you is Immortal. I know that one of you was lying when you said you weren't Immortal."

Terri kept her eyes away from Methos.

"But that's okay," Nora continued. "I understand. Edward's a mean son of a bitch. I hate him." She spat on the grey carpet. "Whichever of you it is, stay away from him. He's killed enough people."

The Doctor nodded. "And tonight it ends," he said firmly.

Methos smiled. "You remind me of Mac."

"Who?" asked the Doctor.

The smile dropped from Methos' face. "Someone who would do just the same stupid thing you're about to do. Rush in, get involved, and end up ten inches shorter. If you're worried about the drug, tell the police! Let them deal with it."

Nora stepped back a foot. "It's you, isn't it?" she said. It was not a question. "You're the Immortal."

Methos turned to face her. "Yes. And I didn't survive as long as I did by taking foolish risks."

"Foolish risks?" said the Doctor, his tone rising into indignation. "Foolish risks? I know more about 'foolish risks' than you'll ever know, believe me! The Universe is based on them. The greater risk is not in stopping Edward, but in letting him continue." He sighed and let his head fall forward. After a moment, he looked up agian. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "You think five thousand years is a long time? It's the blinking of an eye to the Universe. Just because indifference has helped you survive that long doesn't mean it will save the Earth now, Methos."

Nora gasped at the name, but was ignored.

"I don't know . . . ," said the Doctor, turning away. "Do what you like. Terri, Nora, let's pay Edward Chevalier a visit."

* * *

Inside the Turn Of a Friendly Card, the sound level had dropped considerably. Ace of Swords had just finished a set and was taking a break. Nora was relieved. There was something about their music that unnerved her.

It was the New Music style, she decided. It had come into vogue only within the past month and contained a curious background beat that turned even calm Alan Parsons songs into great dance music. Nora didn't know much about music, but she did know when her favorite songs were being changed into something else.

She stood behind Terri and the Doctor, listening to the euphoric hum of a crowd trying to adjust to speaking in normal tones again. She wondered how much of the euphoria was due to White Lightning -Probably most of it, she thought. Edward had certainly stockpiled a lot of the stuff. -I wonder where he gets it.

He hadn't told her. Then again, he hadn't told her much. It was only two weeks ago that she'd worked out about the White Lightning. And only one week ago that Edward had ordered her to sever all ties with her friends.

She shivered, not wanting to think about it. So she watched the Doctor instead as he negotiated with one of the staff.

"No, I don't want to speak to your supervisor, I want to see the proprietor," he was saying. "Edward Chevalier."

"Okay, okay," said the man. Nora recognized him as Freddie Peterson, busboy and in-house sound engineer. He handled all the sound equipment and sometimes even the lighting rigs when a band was performing. He and Edward seemed to have developed something of a bond. -Probably the best person for the Doctor to talk to. I mean, who else can drop everything and go get Edward?

The Doctor turned. There was a smile on his face.

Terri spoke. "Success?" she asked. The Doctor nodded. There was a kind of rapport between them, Nora noticed. -Wonder what Terri was doing when she disappeared for three years. Interesting.

"So what now?" asked Nora.

"We wait," said the Doctor. There was a table nearby, with three empty chairs all ready. With a smooth motion, he slid into one of the chairs.

Terri smiled at Nora. "He's always like this," she said and sat down alongside the Doctor.

Nora shrugged. "I'll go get us something to drink while we wait."

"How about some tea?" asked the Doctor.

Nora grinned. Although she hardly knew the man, tea somehow seemed just right for him. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Methos stood in the southeast corner of the Mall, critically examining the Arnold Schwarzenegger dummy that stood outside Planet Hollywood. This was the very end of the nightclub promenade, where the chrome and neon joined up with the long, winding passageway to the movie theater.

-Unrealistic, he thought, peering at the simulated flesh covering half of the dummy's animatronic face. It was the T-800 puppet that had been shot at in "Terminator 2." -And it looked so real in the movie.

He shrugged after a while. The thought of going inside and having a good beer was becoming steadily more attractive. And as far as he could tell, there were no evil Immortals hanging around Planet Hollywood, lurking in the shadows and waiting for their prey.

-I wonder how the Doctor is, he thought. -Probably dead. Well, that's his problem.

He turned away from the Terminator and examined the celebrity handprints instead. -Bruce Willis . . . Demi Moore . . . Arnold Schwartzenegger . . . well, the last one makes sense. He owns the place, after all.

A voice broke into his thoughts.

"Mr. Pierson!"

He straightened. It sounded suspiciously like that Nora woman. He turned.

It was Nora. He sighed. -Should've gone inside after all.

She skidded to a halt in front of him, breathing heavily.

"You're getting good exercise today," he commented.

She didn't react to the gibe. "You've gotta help," she said between pants. "It's Edward. He's got them."

"What happened?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know. It's like he was expecting them." There was a sinking feeling in Methos' stomach. "He didn't know I was there, fortunately. I was getting drinks. When I got back, he was leading them out the door. With both of the bouncers. I followed. They went out to the ramp. Top floor."

She paused and got her breath back. "You've gotta help me. He's gonna kill them, I just know it."

"Why?" he said. "Why should I help?"

Nora straightened. "Because they're your friends." Her brows knit. "Aren't they?"

* * *

The midnight air was warm, but dry. A cool breeze floated past Edward and his prisoners, standing in a row of empty parking spaces. Terri tipped back her head to drink it in. For a moment, she was able to trick herself into thinking her hands were not tied behind her back.

"The stars are out," commented the Doctor.

"Which one's Gallifrey?" asked Terri.

"It's too far away to see," he replied. But he stared steadfastly at a section of sky east of the Dippers and north of the the arc of the Milky Way. Terri wondered if that was the right direction.

"Enough," said Edward. He was wearing his overcoat. "Leave us."

The two burly men who had escorted them there left. "So much for starwatching," said Terri.

"Too much light pollution anyway," replied the Doctor.

When the bouncers were out of sight, Edward reached into his coat and drew his sword.

"So, Doctor," he said, "this is where it will end."

"I'm not Immortal, you know."

Edward laughed. "Oh, I know that, Doctor! But do you? You think you're immune to accidents. You think you can't be killed." Suddenly he slid right next to the Doctor. The point of his sword touched the Doctor's chin. Terri could see the dent it made in the Time Lord's skin. "But you're wrong. And I'm going to prove it!"

"Just one question," said the Doctor.

"Oh, no," said Edward, chuckling. "No last requests. Not this time. Only death. You hear me, Doctor? Only death!"

Edward drew his arm back, preparing to swing. Then a curious expression came over his face and he lost all interest in the Doctor. Terri breathed a sigh of relief.

"Edward Chevalier!"

The voice clearly belonged to Methos. Terri's heart rose and sank both at the same time. -The calvary has arrived, she thought. -But dear God, don't let anything happen to him.

The corner of Edward's lips curled up. He cast a sidelong glance at the Doctor, still ignoring Terri. "Ah! A welcome diversion!" He stepped away from his prisoners. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he called.

Methos stepped out. His sword was in his right hand, ready. There was a curious smile on his face. "You've made a mistake, my friend."

Edward laughed. "The only mistake is yours. What is your name?"

"Doesn't matter, now does it?" Methos stepped forward. "There can be only one." He said it with a certainty that startled Terri.

"Not strictly true," replied Edward, "but I shall enjoy killing you all the same."

For an answer, Methos swung his sword at Edward. The shorter Immortal parried easily. The sounds of their duel rang across the moonless night. Terri briefly wondered why Mall security didn't intervene.

"Terri," said the Doctor, "do you think you can reach my pocket?"

"Why?" She spared a moment from watching the fight to look at the Doctor.

"I think I've got a knife in there."

"Okay," she said. She moved closer, then squirmed around, trying to get her hand into his pocket. "I must look ridiculous," she said.

"Nonsense," said the Doctor. "Just see if you can reach."

There was cry of pain. Terri looked up.

Edward was clutching his left shoulder with his sword hand. "First blood," he said. Even at the distance, Terri felt she could see his eyes smouldering at Methos. "But I saw better in the court of King John!" And with a snarl, he threw himself back into the fray.

"King John?" said Terri. "He must be older than I thought."

"Never mind that," said the Doctor. Terri sighed and returned her attention to the Doctor's pocket. She was concentrating so hard that she never saw Nora arrive.

"Terri!" she hissed.

She looked up. "Nora? Get us out of here!"

"No prob." Nora produced a Swiss Army knife from her pocket and began sawing through their bonds. "Sorry it took so long. Edward's got his goons watching the entrance. I think they're keeping security away." In no time at all, Nora had freed them.

As one, they turned their attention back to the fight. Edward's left sleeve was covered with blood. Both were dripping with sweat. Silently, Terri began cheering. -Go, Methos, go Methos, go Methos!

Then, suddenly, it was over.

In what seemed the ultimate irony, Edward slipped on his own blood. He hit the concrete floor hard. His sword clattered free. Methos kicked it and it skidded away under a car.

"Get up," he hissed.

Edward pushed himself into a sitting position. "It's not over," he said.

"Guess again," said Methos. He drew back.

Terri shut her eyes, not wanting to watch what came next. There was a sickening thud. She opened her eyes. Edward's body lay in a spreading pool of blood. His head lay several feet away. Terri swallowed hard.

Methos fell to his knees and waited. The gentle breeze picked up a bit. The dead body glowed for a moment. Then static electricity arced across, striking Methos dead in the center of the chest. He screamed.

Terri had seen Quickenings before. It was disconcerting to see a good friend on the receiving end of one. Even so, she felt that there was something wrong with this one.

Lightning raced across the concrete pavement, ran through the cars, and played havoc with the lighting. But this was normal. What Terri had not expected was the dark shadow, echoing every rippling burst of power. She felt that if there was a way to depict a black hole, this would be it. And Methos knelt within its event horizon.

The overhead lights failed and everything went dark. There were a few more sparks, and then it was over.

No one moved. At her side, she could hear the Doctor clear his throat. "Probably threw a circuit breaker."

The lights came back on. "Definitely a circuit breaker," said the Doctor. He sounded unimpressed, although Terri suspected it was a front.

She looked to Methos instead. He had collapsed into the pool of Edward's blood. After a few seconds, he rose. He turned to face them. Terri shivered. One whole side of his face was covered in blood and it was matting his hair.

"Only one . . . ," he said. "What rubbish." He smiled. Terri didn't like the smile. He began walking towards them.

"Ah, Methos," said the Doctor, "don't you think we should be making an exit about now?"

Methos laughed. There was something definitely wrong with his laugh. "It doesn't matter, Doctor." The Doctor backed away. A little unnerved, Terri and Nora did the same.

"I mean, you were always keen on avoiding trouble." The Doctor pointed behind Methos.

The Immortal turned. Flashing red and blue lights were speeding around the parked cars. From the street below the plaintive wail of police sirens could be heard.

"Later," said Methos, and ran to the edge of the ramp.

"Methos, no!" called Terri. But he disappeared over the guardrail. Terri ran up to it and poked her head over. There was a seventy-foot drop to the street below. It was completely empty.

The Doctor put his hand on Terri's shoulder. "Let him go, Terri." She turned away from the edge. She barely noticed the police cars screeching to a halt by the headless corpse. "He'll be all right," said the Doctor.

"Yeah," she said. "Sure."

But she didn't believe it. Edward was dead. But something inside of her said the adventure was far from finished.

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	5. Episode Five

**EPISODE FIVE: Daylight Revenant**

 _"Go back home you damn fool  
Surely you know you can't win  
You should never have come near this place  
You should have stayed on the outside (Lookin' in)"  
\- "I Don't Wanna Go Home," the Alan Parsons Project_

The mid-morning sunlight streamed in the station windows and struck Terri's closed eyes as she lay curled up on an uncomfortable bench. She batted at the sunbeam, but it did not go away. Finally she stirred and sat up.

She looked around. The Bloomington Police Station was not, on the whole, a bad place to be for people who had nothing to fear from the law. There were paintings on the wall which, although not particularly good, strengthened the feeling of friendliness.

"You're awake," said the Doctor.

He was standing by the window. There was a Minneapolis Star-Tribune in his hands, but it did not look as though it had ever been opened. -He could've been standing there for hours, thought Terri.

"Where's Nora?" asked Terri.

"It's her turn with the police," replied the Doctor. After Methos had disappeared over the concrete wall of the Mall of America parking ramp, the police had taken over. The forensic team had only just arrived when the three of them had been hustled into a police car and driven off to the station for questioning.

Terri had volunteered to go first, and told the police everything she knew, with references to Immortals, Watchers, and transdimensional police boxes carefully excised. The only direct lie she had told was that she did not know the killer.

Then, before it was the Doctor's turn, the forensic team returned. So questioning was put off for a bit. The three of them were given an empty office to sleep in while they waited.

Terri stretched and stood. She walked up next to the Doctor, who was staring resolutely out the window.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He turned to meet her gaze. There was a twinkle in his eye. "Only a penny? I thought they might be worth more than that." Then the twinkle evaporated and he sighed. He snapped the paper in his hands, gazing unseeing at the headline. "I was thinking about what happened. Nothing worth a penny has come out yet, I'm afraid."

Terri stood on tiptoe to peek at the headline. "I see the stadium referendum still isn't going anywhere." The Doctor did not reply. "Did the police say anything yet?"

He shook his head. "Only that they think Edward Chevalier was killed by a rival drug dealer, who has now fled. They're keeping it quiet for now. The Mall is helping them to keep it from the press."

Terri sniffed. "Bet they don't know they're being helped."

"What do you mean?"

"By the Watchers." The Doctor frowned at her. She laughed. "What, you think a beheading normally goes unnoticed on Earth? If it weren't for us . . . ." She sobered. "It could all end so easily."

"What could?" asked the Doctor.

"Everything the Watchers have striven to maintain. If the world found out about the Game, it'd be open season on Immortals."

The Doctor nodded. "You're probably right." He dropped the paper to his side and stared back out the window. There was nothing more for Terri to say, so she eased the newspaper out of his fingers and sat down to read it.

The door opened. Nora walked in, followed by a uniformed policeman. "If you could follow me, please," said the policeman. He smiled apologetically.

Terri sighed and put the paper down. "Here we go again."

* * *

You weren't sure it would work. But it did. You rode the lightning and you are still alive - and will always be alive, as long as the Game continues. You laugh with delight, knowing that the one whose place you have taken can hear it all, locked away inside his own head. You wonder how much he knows. No matter. There will be plenty of time for browsing in the library of his brain.

You close your eyes and the darkness surrounds you again, enfolding you in its silence. The other is enfolded too, and you hear him cry out in fear. This is new to him.

But it is not new to you. A smile dances across your lips as you visualize all that you remember from that dread space between time and eternity, where past and future have little relevance and there is only the terrible now, a present that spans every possibility.

In your imagining, one of the great worms slides through the void and sinks its leathery fangs into the other's - we shall call it living - essence.

He screams. You laugh, pleased that this one did not sink immediately into the true void of unconsciousness. His will is very strong. But it does not matter.

He is trapped, as you were trapped, with no escape. There is no ambition, no future; only survival. You sing that out in the blackness of your mind's eye and the other hears it.

There is a resonance there. He ignores the blind worm gnawing mindlessly at his being and listens for your mental voice.

-We are of a like mind, you tell him. -Perhaps that is why you have remained while the last one sank so quickly into oblivion.

-Why? he cries. A quick learner. But not quick enough. -Why have you built this place for me?

Your smile curls the corners of your mouth. -All the better to eat you with, my dear.

You laugh and open your eyes, banishing the other from the threshold of your consciousness.

He'll keep. You have other things to do.

* * *

The Doctor jogged down the front steps of the police station. Terri and Nora followed him out into the sunlight. Once they'd reached the bottom, the Doctor stopped and looked around.

"We've got to get back to the Turn of a Friendly Card," he said.

"The MCTO stops near here," commented Terri.

"The what?" asked the Doctor.

Nora laughed. "Metropolitan Council of Transit Operations. The big white bus." Terri looked at her in surprise. "Well, it is. I've lived here for three years, you know."

Terri laughed. "I guess I'd forgotten. I keep thinking you've just moved in."

Nora looked at her. She cocked her head to one side. "But three years have passed for you too, haven't they? What were you doing all that time?"

Terri glanced at the Doctor. He did not respond. "Traveling with the Doctor." She smiled. "I was actually gone for only a year." she leaned in close and whispered in Nora's ear. "He's not human. He's a Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey. And he's got a space ship that travels in time and space and looks like a phone booth."

Nora pulled away. "You're crazy."

Terri grinned. "That's debatable." Her nap at the police station had done her the world of good, and suddenly all her problems seemed salvageable. Then she remembered Methos. "Hoo boy," she said.

"Terri," said the Doctor, "if you're finished, I'd like to get back to the Mall. It's the last place we saw Methos, and the last place we found any sort of clue."

"I have a car," said Nora.

"Why didn't you say?" asked Terri, a pained expression on her face.

"I dunno. I mean, I kinda forgot," said Nora, shrugging. "The cops helped me get it while they were questioning you."

"Excellent!" said the Doctor. "We can go straight to the Mall."

Terri glanced at her watch. It was eight-thirty. "No we can't," she said. "It won't open for another half-hour."

"Hm," said the Doctor. "Well, we'll worry about that later then. You two collect Nora's car."

"What will you do, Doctor?" asked Terri.

"Talk to the detectives back inside. See if they've learned anything. We need all the help we can get."

"Then what?" asked Nora.

The Doctor grinned. "Then I think that breakfast is in order."

* * *

After some debate, it was decided to get a drive through breakfast. Nora drove them all to McDonald's on Old Snelling Avenue. While waiting in the line, they discussed their plan of attack.

Nora fiddled with the radio in her battered grey Nissan, trying to pick up a decent radio station. It was all talk this early in the day and she hated that. After a while she gave up and stuck her Alan Parsons tape in the deck.

"So," said Terri, leaning forward. She sat alone in the back seat. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing good," replied the Doctor. He sounded tired. Nora wondered if he'd gotten any sleep at all. "Methos . . . . They couldn't find him. But two policemen radioed in around four AM that they had seen him and were pursuing."

"And?" said Terri.

The Doctor shook his head. "They were discovered about an hour ago. Their necks were broken. And their car was gone."

"Dear God," breathed Terri.

The line of cars moved. Nora shifted her car into gear and moved up alongside the speaker. She cranked down the window.

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" The voice crackled out, startling the Doctor.

Nora ordered for everyone. The line moved. After a time, the Doctor spoke again. When he did, it was under his breath.

"How could he do such a thing?"

Nora sighed and turned to face him. "Well," she said, "I think he's not himself."

"What do you mean?" said the Doctor.

"I mean that it's a Dark Quickening," she replied.

"What's a Dark Quickening?" asked Terri. "I've heard of it, but . . . well . . . ." She shrugged. "I think I've been gone too long.

Nora put the car back into park. "It's . . . I mean . . . ." She sighed. "Look. They say that an Immortal carries the souls of all those that he has killed, right?"

"With ya," said Terri.

"I'll take your word for it," said the Doctor.

"When an Immortal has killed too many evil Immortals," she said, "the balance is destroyed and he becomes a creature of evil. If another Immortal kills him, it'll take him too. That's the Dark Quickening."

"Yin and yang," said the Doctor.

Whoa," said Terri.

The line moved forward. Nora shifted back into gear. The cashier's window moved up to the car. She paid and took the food, handing it to the Doctor before driving away from the window.

"So what do we do?" asked Terri.

"There's nothing we can do to save him," said Nora, signaling her turn. "As far as we're concerned, Methos is already dead."

* * *

He floats back up, bubbling through your consciousness. If you concentrate, you can hear him swearing at you.

You chuckle and switch on your lamp, striding deeper into the cool darkness of the limestone cave. This darkness pleases you. The only beasts here are a few bats, and they have no interest in you. Indeed, you fancy that they would be frightened of you if only they would wake.

This is the darkness where evil breeds, where all your plots may feed upon the cool, growing to maturity. This is your home.

For the moment. Time is fickle, and you like to move with it.

The other screams out your name. The cry echoes through the recesses of his - your - brain. You flinch in pain and wonder just how he found your name. No one knows it anymore. Even you had forgotten all the syllables.

He is strong. But not strong enough.

The knowledge gives you pleasure. He has no hope. With a smile, you push the one called Methos back down below the threshold of consciousness.

* * *

Terri and the Doctor stood before the darkened doorway of the Turn Of a Friendly Card, waiting for Nora to emerge. The Fourth Floor was eerily quiet; with all but a few of the nightclubs closed, there was little reason for people to visit the nightclub promenade. There was a muted hum of people from the floors below, but the sound faded in and out as it echoed through the twisting corridors.

The Doctor leaned forward to read the notices taped up to the doorway.

"You only have one life to live." "Where do we go from here now that all other children are growin' up?" "While the Sorcerer slept the Apprentice decided to play." "Ain't gonna spend the rest of my life, quietly fading away."

He turned to Terri. "What are these?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Don't know. There were different ones there last night." She pointed to the sign in the middle. "Maybe they have to do with this."

The sign read: "ACE OF SWORDS: Last Night! Be There!"

"I don't know," said the Doctor, frowning. "They still don't make any sense."

Terri glanced at her watch. "Where's Nora? She's been gone ten minutes."

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know. I think it's been long enough. Shall we brave the unknown security systems?"

Terri grinned. "Why not?"

With a smile in response, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and started working on the lock. It didn't take long.

The door creaked open and they entered. The club looked very different without the illuminated mist and the throng of pulsing humanity. The Doctor felt it looked almost sterile without it.

There was a single light on over the bar. The Doctor walked straight towards it. A voice deep inside of him warned that it might be a trap. He walked towards it anyway.

There was a stack of cards on the bar, with the words "THE GAME NEVER ENDS" written in calligrapher's ink. The Doctor frowned. Next to them was a folded piece of paper and a sliver of metal. He picked up the paper and opened it.

It read, "Dear Doctor, I've just realized what he's up to. He's definitely the same person as Edward was; these cards confirm it - same handwriting and everything. And they were still wet when I found them. He's my problem; I'm the one who helped him kill all those Immortals. I'm going to the Brickyards to stop him. -Nora."

The Doctor sighed and crumpled the note in his hand.

Terri tapped his shoulder. "Whatcha got?" she asked.

"Bad news," he replied. "Do you know where the Brickyards are?"

* * *

Terri led the Doctor through the Saint Paul Brickyards, dodging the rough footing and the dense burdock undergrowth. The mid-morning sun filtered down through the birch and maple trees, dancing across the path. She wished it were a happier day.

"Interesting," said the Doctor. Terri turned. He was holding a piece of limestone and examining it closely. "This appears to be an area rich in fossil life, Terri."

Terri smiled. "Yes," she said, remembering with fondness her childhood excursions to hunt for fossils in the Brickyards. "This was an ocean once."

He smiled. "I know." He tapped the stone against his chin. "But why would Methos . . . Edward . . . whoever it is have come here?"

"There are artificial caves here," she replied. "Some of them have been filled in, but there are still a few open. You're not supposed to go inside."

There was a shout.

"What was that?" said Terri.

"It came from that direction," said the Doctor, pointing off the path and into the forest. He dropped the rock into Terri's arms and dashed off.

Terri fumbled with the rock, then shrugged and took off after the Doctor. "So why are we running?" she asked. "This is screaming 'Trap.'"

The Doctor stopped on a rise. He pointed ahead. "That's why," he said.

Terri came up alongside.

Methos was there. He was holding Nora by the throat. There was a look of unholy joy in his eyes. Terri shivered uncontrollably.

"Ah, Doctor, you're here at last," he said. Nora made a gurgling sound. He ignored her.

The Doctor spoke. His voice was calm and low. Terri knew this to be the voice he used when he meant business. "Methos, put Nora down and we'll talk."

Methos laughed. The sound was unlike anything Terri had ever heard from his lips. She stood frozen in terror. "Methos? Methos! You never understand, do you, Doctor?"

"Put her down," repeated the Doctor, "or you'll suffer for it. I don't know what's happened to you, Methos, but there must be something of you left."

The Immortal's lips curled up at the edges. "All right," he said. "I'll put her down." Terri tried to scream out that this was all wrong, but her mouth was frozen in place. She watched, transfixed, as her friend took Nora's head in his hands and turned it sharply to one side.

There was a wet, splintering noise. Nora went limp in Methos' hands. He dropped her to the forest floor. "There," he said happily, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I've put her down."

"You'll pay for that," said the Doctor, his voice soft. Terri saw his fists clench and unclench.

"Oh, I doubt that," replied Methos. "I knew you'd come. This was all planned, you see. Your presence, my dear Doctor, is only icing on the cake."

Terri tried to dash up and attack this monster who wore her friend's face, but found that she still could not move.

Methos reached into his coat. But he did not draw his sword. Instead he pulled a short black rod from an inner pocket and pointed it at the Doctor.

"No . . . ," breathed the Doctor. "No, it can't be . . . ."

"Predictable as ever, Doctor," he said and chuckled. "I survived, even in the Eye of Harmony, and now, with the help of this antiquity of an Immortal body, I shall at last have the power to conquer the galaxy!"

Terri felt the horror in her stomach pushed aside by a burning rage. It exploded from her heart and ran through her veins, unfreezing her muscles at last. "You bastard," she spat. "You bastard!" And she flung the limestone rock at him with all her might.

He used the black rod to shoot at the rock. The shot went wide and a tree suddenly shrank away to nothing.

"Run!" shouted the Doctor, grabbing Terri by the arm, startling her out of her amazement. Together they dashed off into the forest. The sound of the black rod pursued them, but Terri knew her way through the Brickyards. She took the lead, leaping over fallen trees and down a hidden stream.

"This way!" she hissed. They had reached the old trestle bridge. She grabbed the Doctor by the arm and pulled him under. She pointed to a dark gap in the bridge supports. Together they crawled through to the bank of the Mississppi River. Nora's rusty grey car was parked not ten feet away on a concrete boat launch.

"Now that's lucky," said Terri. "Let's see if she left the doors open."

The doors opened easily. They leapt into the car. Terri hot-wired the ignition.

"Where'd you learn that?" asked the Doctor.

"Don't ask," she replied through clenched teeth. She revved the engine once and shifted into drive. They screamed out of the Brickyards, leaving a thick coating of rubber on the boat launch.

"Dear God," said Terri, once they were safely on Robert Street, amid the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. She felt the adrenalin rush fade and her hands shivered on the steering wheel. "What was that?"

The Doctor groaned. "The Tissue Compression Eliminator. It seems he's made a new one."

"Who, Methos?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't Methos. He's been taken over. And it's not a Dark Quickening."

"Then who was it?"

The Doctor looked up and stared out the windshield at the approaching skyline of downtown Saint Paul.

"That was the Master," he whispered.

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	6. Episode Six

**EPISODE SIX: Action Potential**

 _"Something's wrong in this House today  
While the Master was riding the Servants decided to play  
Something's wrong in this House today  
Something's been going on, there may be a price to pay."_

\- "May Be a Price To Pay," the Alan Parsons Project

The late morning sun shattered brilliantly against the mirrored windows of the Saint Paul skyscrapers, spiking through the cobwebs seventeen stories above the street. Far below, an albino squirrel bounded across the grass and stopped beneath a crabapple tree, its pink eyes gleaming at Terri and the Doctor as they sat on the concrete benches in Rice Park. Its coat was thin and bedraggled.

"Poor thing," said Terri, craning her neck around to watch the squirrel. It flicked its tail once, then turned its interest to a half-eaten hotdog bun.

Behind her, the Doctor stared into the fountain and did not reply. Terri turned away from the squirrel and watched the water cascading through the pool. A bronze statue of a girl was playing in the water. Terri coveted her carefree joy.

"The Master," said the Doctor.

Terri swallowed. "What about him?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know yet." He rummaged through his pocket and came up with the packet of White Lighting. "There's this. If I know the Master - and I do - he's planning something. Something terrible."

Terri shivered. She remembered the Master laughing through her friend's mouth, looking out her friend's eyes, using her friend's hands to murder Nora, and God knew what else. -Oh, Methos, she thought.

She swallowed hard, pushing her feelings out of the way. "Okay. Just who is this Master, and how do you know him?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. He looked up into the sky. "Once he was a Time Lord like myself. We even went to Academy together. Class of '92." He trailed off.

"Yes?" prompted Terri.

The Doctor shook himself. "The Master is one of the most terrible criminal minds that Gallifrey has ever produced. His megalomania knows no bounds. It cost him all thirteen of his lives and he had to resort to stealing bodies."

"Ah. Like Edward and . . . ." She bit her lip.

"Yes," said the Doctor, turning to meet Terri's eyes. "Like Edward and Methos. And Tremas and Bruce and who knows how many others . . . . He is determined to survive and nearly as determined to gain mastery of the universe." He looked down at the packet in his hand. He shook it. "I wonder what this has to do with it."

He stood. "Terri, we have to go back to the Brickyards."

"What?!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "We barely got away!"

"I know that," he said. "But we need clues, and Turn Of a Friendly Card won't open until this evening."

* * *

"Hello, friends."

Two young men sat on the edge of the pool outside Nordstrom's while the Saturday traffic of Mall of America shoppers streamed around them. They were brothers, dressed identically, but they looked nothing alike. They looked up at the voice.

The woman who spoke wore stylish grunge. She swayed from side to side as she stood in front of them, seeming unable to restrain herself completely from motion. Her eyes were soft and unfocused. She did not smile.

"Hello," said one of the young men. His hair was blonde and untidy. "What's up, friend?"

He had never met her before.

He knew her as well as he knew his brother.

"I got the power," she said. "Want some?"

He nodded slowly. His brother nodded too. "You know it!"

She handed each a small white packet. "On the house," she said. "There's New Music tonight. Ace of Swords. Same place as last night. If you can find it, you can dance it. If you can dance it, you can be it!"

The crowd of shoppers swelled. The woman spun laughing into the human tide and vanished. The brothers shared a long glance, then followed her into the madness, dancing all the way.

* * *

The cool air of the cavern sank into Terri's Birkenstocks, coating her toes with limestone dust. So far, they had not seen the Master. -Although, thought Terri as they stood at the lip of the cave and stared into the darkness, -that doesn't mean much.

Nora's body was gone, which had struck Terri as rather a mixed blessing when they had arrived. She didn't want to think about what the Master might want with a healthy corpse.

"Uh, Doctor," said Terri, "don't you suppose he might be in there waiting? All that earlier about 'predictable as ever.'"

"Oh, the Master will be long gone," he said, fumbling in his pocket. "He never tries the same trick twice. He'll be setting up something nastier."

"What are you looking for?" asked Terri. She had a horrible feeling that the something nastier would be waiting for them at the Mall. She did not want to think about it.

"A torch," said the Doctor. After a moment, he produced a flashlight. "Aha!" he said, and switched it on.

"It's called a flashlight," muttered Terri. But the Doctor had moved into the cave and out of earshot. With a shrug, Terri followed.

The air turned cool and pleasant, although Terri found the stillness of it disturbing. "Like a grave," she said.

"Yes," said the Doctor. After a few moments, he stopped. "Rassilon's Rod," he breathed. "Look at that!" And he gestured with the hand holding the flashlight.

"Jesus," said Terri.

There, tucked impossibly away in the blackness of the limestone cave, was a spaceship. As the Doctor ran the flashlight beam along its length, Terri could make out delicate fins, tubing, and panels covered with a flowing alien script. "How the hell did *that* get in here?"

"Matter transferance," said the Doctor. "This is a N'vrokten ship."

"A what?"

He stepped up to the ship's side and ran a hand along its surface. "The N'vrokteni are a race noted for elegance and simplicity. They are also noted for inventing a short-range open-ended matter transmitter."

"Ah," said Terri. "But how did the Master get one of their ships?"

The Doctor shook his head and stepped away from the ship. "Good question. Best guess, a N'vrokten scout landed on Earth to conduct a planetary survey. They like surveys. In the 30th Century, the Galactic Federation . . . ."

"Forget the anecdote," said Terri. "I get the picture. Peaceful alien comes down to Earth, meets homicidal madman, rest of story left to the viewer's imagination."

"Something like that," said the Doctor. His voice was hard.

Terri itched her nose. There was a faint scent of flowers in the air. "Phew," she said. "The Master must like potpourri."

The Doctor frowned. "Potpourri?" He sniffed the air. "Good heavens, you're right!"

"What?"

"I said the N'vrokteni love elegance, didn't I?" he said. Terri nodded. "They also like the scent of flowers. This ship's been readied for takeoff."

Terri sucked in her breath. "Damn," she said.

"Exactly. We have to get back to the Mall. Whatever the Master is planning, it'll happen today."

* * *

Darkness.

He floated freely in the darkness, unsure of where he was, or even who he was. Somehow he remembered knowing those things before. But the memory was vague and uncertain.

The voice was gone and for that he was glad. He didn't like the voice. It called itself the Master and spoke with a fearful eloquence. Almost feline. Yet he could not shake the impression of a snake whenever he thought of the vile presence that had trapped him here.

"Where am I?" he called.

-In the Village, he thought wryly, then wondered where the thought had come from. He concentrated.

The answer came floating out of the abyss. He flailed at it, caught it and knew. 1967. "The Prisoner." Patrick McGoohan. A television series based around concepts of individuality and personal freedom.

Freedom. He had been free once. Free for over five thousand years, free to do as he pleased, to live as he pleased, to live, to grow stronger, and to fight again.

There was another memory. No, a host of memories. Fire and lightning, the power to hold back death. But he could not remember enough to understand. The memories frightened him a little, since he could not remember how they came to be.

Yet he knew enough. He was imprisoned; that was enough.

"Who am I?" he called.

Laughter. Instead of knowledge came the unholy glee of his jailor, who had been watching the whole time. YOU ARE NUMBER SIX! it shouted.

"Oh, shut up!" he shouted at the voice. The nine syllables of the monster's name rose up from the oblivion and were lost. It did not want him to know its name.

I AM THE MASTER, AND YOU ARE NOTHING! DO NOT FORGET IT! And it laughed horribly.

Suddenly he knew that this creature feared him. It had taken and hidden its name to protect itself from him. But what power did he have against such a thing when he could not even remember himself?

The Master laughed for a very long time. The vile worms came out of the blackness once again to feed upon his essence. He abandoned thought and screamed, but there was no surcease.

* * *

"Okay," said Terri, turning Nora's battered Nissan onto the Lafayette Freeway. "It's past noon and I'm famished."

"One meal a day is quite enough," said the Doctor.

"Oh, sure," said Terri, "for a Time Lord. We mere humans require sustenence occasionally."

"All right," he said. "We'll stop for lunch when we reach the Mall. There's still time before the Turn Of a Friendly Card opens."

"Fine," said Terri. "In the meantime, we've got fifteen minutes before we arrive. Plenty of time to discuss the situation."

The Doctor did not answer right away. Terri switched on the radio. There was a cassette tape in the deck, which automatically started to play soft instrumental rock. It sounded vaguely familiar.

"Doctor?" said Terri.

"Hmm? Oh. Sorry, I was thinking." Out of the corner of her eye, Terri saw him turn to look out the window. "The Master is loose in the Twin Cities. He could do untold damage. I only wonder why he's waited this long."

"Maybe he was waiting for you," said Terri, shrugging. They crossed into West Saint Paul and the houses beside the road dropped away, replaced with a wooded park.

"There's a thought," said the Doctor. "But I doubt it. I think he was just lucky."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He's always disliked me." -Understatement of the year, thought Terri. "He's always wanted revenge. But he's got something else going on here, something totally separate from either his survival or my death."

"Like what?" asked Terri.

"That's what worries me," replied the Doctor.

The music changed and they fell silent. The next song began. It sounded extremely familiar, but Terri couldn't place it until the vocals began. "Hey," said Terri. "Ace of Swords was playing that last night, weren't they?" The Doctor nodded and they both listened.

"And they think it will make their lives easier

For God knows up till knows it's been hard

But the game never ends when the whole world depends

On the turn of a friendly card

No the game never ends when your whole world depends

On the the turn of a friendly card"

"Oh my God," said Terri. "The card the bouncer handed me . . . the cards that were lying on the bar . . . ."

The Doctor finished for her. "The Game never ends when the whole world depends on the Turn Of a Friendly Card."

"He's rigged it, hasn't he?" said Terri. "The bastard's rigged the Game."

"I wonder," said the Doctor.

"Wonder what?" They reached the I-494 interchange. Terri took the westbound exit.

"I wonder if that's really all there is to it."

Terri's heart grew cold. "What could possibly be more to it?"

The Doctor did not answer. Terri glanced over and noticed that he was examining the packet of White Lightning. She returned her attention to the road and drove with her fingers wrapped around the wheel so tightly it left marks.

* * *

The worms had left him alone after a time, vanishing into the blackness without a sound. And he knew that he was truly alone; if the beasts were gone, his captor was ignoring him for the time being.

He kept silent and concentrated. The worms were illusion; he was sure of that. But before he could escape he had to know where he was and why he was and most of all who he was.

After a time, he found his answer.

* * *

The brothers were dancing in the crowd. There was no real music in the air, but they were practising for tonight.

"New Music," said the one.

"The power," said the other.

"White Lightning!" they said in unison, laughing into each others' faces.

There was another there. He had the power. They could tell just looking at him. But he had something else too.

They had never met him before. They knew him as well as they knew each other.

"Hello, friends," said the man. "Follow me if you want the power forever." He was English, but even if they had noticed they would not have cared. He had the power; he always had the power. That was all they knew and all that mattered. They laughed for joy and followed their Master. Their laughing faces were as blank as a joyless clown.

They were riding the White Lightning.

Because of the Lightning, they did not see him falter and drop from the lead. They knew where to go in any case. "Follow the Master," said the one. "Follow the power," said the other.

"White Lightning!" they said together.

* * *

METHOS!

As he floated in the darkness, he remembered.

Cities rose and fell. People died, many by his own hand. Five thousand years of keeping his head on his shoulders. The Game. Old friends, some still alive, others dead for centuries. Love. Hate. Fear. The pain of betrayal and the knowledge that friendship can cost an Immortal his head.

Other things came back. Not everthing was good, not everything was bad. He hovered in the darkness until he was whole once again.

-Live, grow stronger, fight again.

-But how the hell do I fight this?

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	7. Episode Seven

**EPISODE SEVEN: The Turn Of a Friendly Card**

 _"There are unsmiling faces in fetters and chains  
On a wheel in perpetual motion  
Who belong to all races and answer all names  
With no show of an outward emotion_

 _"And they think it will make their lives easier  
But the doorway before them is barred  
And the game never ends when your whole world depends  
On the turn of a friendly card"  
-"The Turn Of a Friendly Card (Part 2)," the Alan Parsons Project_

* * *

"Okay, got it."

The voice penetrated through the blackness as Methos groped blindly for an exit. It shattered the silence so perfectly he could almost feel it. He paused a moment to listen.

There was a metallic ring, then the harsh scraping of metal on metal. The sound stopped. After a few seconds there was a click. A soft hum penetrated the darkness.

"Hey Freddie, sound check!"

Sound check.

Sound check!

Suddenly Methos knew that he was hearing the real world again. Somehow he had won that much back. He wondered if the Master knew.

Methos listened to the sound check, gradually becoming aware that he was in the Turn Of a Friendly Card again. Which meant that the Master had returned there to carry out the next stage in his plan.

"Hey friend," said a voice. Methos did not recognize it, but he knew that it was louder and probably addressing him. "Ace of Swords is here. They wanna know if we're still opening early."

A feline chuckle ran across the emptiness and Methos heard his own voice answer. "Of course," it said. "And Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Give them the power. They'll need it tonight."

Somehow Methos knew exactly what that meant. He shivered in the darkness. It was not what he had expected.

* * *

The north side of the Mall of America was less full than Terri had expected. -Then again, she reminded herself, -it is Monday. Even at four in the afternoon it's still a weekday.

She walked east along the second floor, the Doctor following several paces behind. Every now and again, he'd peer intensely into the eyes of passersby. Terri had found this embarassing and was walking well ahead of him.

The problems of the past day were still haunting her mind and she thought about them as she threaded her way through strollers and young couples. The Master had taken possession of one of her only friends. Perhaps worse, he had murdered an alien surveyor for his ship and later murdered poor Nora to keep the ship to himself. Worst of all, he was feeding an addictive drug to the young people of the Twin Cities for no better reason than that he seemed to enjoy it.

But of all of these things, she worried the most about her friend Methos. -How in the world are we going to save him?

No matter how hard she tried to ignore the thought, her mind kept coming back to it.

The sound of a laser blast jolted Terri back to consciousness. She whirled around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "What the hell was that?" she said.

The Doctor grinned at her. He pointed to her left.

Terri turned to look. They were at Starlog, the science-fiction magazine's store. The television in the front display was playing "The Empire Strikes Back." Luke Skywalker was shooting it out with the Stormtroopers in Cloud City. Terri grinned with relief.

"I am getting jumpy," she said. "And it's your fault, Doctor."

He put a hand to his chest with an expression of wounded innocence. But before he could speak, two young men smashed into him from behind. All three fell to the ground.

"Doctor! Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said as the two men rolled away. He stood and offered one of the young men his hand. "Here, I'll help you up."

The man did not take the Doctor's hand. He pushed himself up, humming quietly. Terri offered to help the other, but he too ignored her.

"Power," said the first. "Dance it," said the other.

"White Lightning!" they said in unison and collapsed laughing in each others arms.

Terri noticed that they did not smile when they laughed. She looked across the two men at the Doctor. There was a very worried expression on his face. "Doctor," she said. "I don't think I like this."

He met her eyes. "Nor do I." He paused a moment, then took one of the men by the shoulders and spun him away from the other. There was no resistance.

"Look into my eyes," he told the man. "Relax. Gently relax." The man's incessant swaying from side to side gradually slowed and then stopped. The other man kept swaying, but remained silent. "Now. What's this about White Lightning?"

"It's the power," he said. "Tonight. If we follow the Master we follow the power, if we follow the power we follow the way."

The Doctor's brows knit. "The way where?"

"To the White Lightning!" The man doubled up with laughter. Terri shivered. There was no emotion in his face. The other man suddenly burst out laughing as well. He caught his friend's hand and they ran off down the corridor, dancing the whole way.

Terri stared after them. She jumped when the Doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "Yaah!" she said. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. "Jeez . . . what on earth is going on?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know. But I've got some nasty suspicions."

"What do you mean?"

The Doctor started walking again. Terri hurried to catch up. "It was too easy to hypnotize him. I'm afraid the drug has something to do with it."

"You mean . . . ."

"Yes," said the Doctor, staring up at the skylight as they walked. "The drug opens their minds, makes them suggestible." He stopped. "The question is why."

Terri pressed her lips together. "I think it's time we found out, Doctor."

* * *

The Turn Of a Friendly Card was already open. The Doctor lead the way into the neon haze, Terri following behind. The band was getting ready to play and already the place was filled almost to capacity.

As Terri watched, dozens of small white packets made their way from hand to hand through the crowd. Everyone was on Lightning. Everyone except her and the Doctor.

She tugged at the Doctor's sleeve and he stopped, still scanning the dense crowd. "I don't like this," she said.

The Doctor smiled down at her. "Brave heart," he whispered. He gave her shoulder a quick reassuring squeeze and turned back to the crowd.

His shoulders stiffened. Terri couldn't see, but she assumed he'd spotted the Master. She pushed up to his side.

The familiar shape of Methos stood there, with an unfamiliar smile on his face. He was dressed all in black silk, with a silver pin at his throat. His eyes gleamed.

"So, Doctor," said the Master, "You've arrived at last!"

Terri bit her lip. It was all she could do to restrain herself from flinging herself hopelessly at him. She repeated the word "bastard" over and over in her mind as a descant to the action before her.

"You can't do it, Master." The Doctor spoke gently. "Whatever it is, I won't let you get away with it."

The Master laughed. All resemblence to Methos fell away. Terri added a few more words to the refrain in her mind. "Come now, Doctor, that's quite uncharitable of you. And you don't even know what I'm planning!"

"Well, why don't you tell me?"

The Master smiled. "Patience, Doctor!" Terri became aware of two large men wearing "Turn Of a Friendly Card" t-shirts standing to either side of them. She wondered where they'd come from. The Master noticed her watching them. "Just wait here, and you'll see what I'm planning. I wouldn't want you to miss the party!"

He laughed one more time, then spun away into the crowd.

The Doctor moved to go after him, but one of the bouncers put a hand on his shoulder. The man shook his head silently. "It's all right," said the Doctor. "I understand. We're not going anywhere." The two men waited a moment, staring at the Doctor. Then they faded quietly into the crowd.

"Well," said Terri. She rubbed her upper arms.

"Cold?" asked the Doctor.

"No," she said. "But I'm worried."

* * *

The sounds came and went in the blackness but for the most part Methos ignored them. If he concentrated, the darkness resolved itself into the hazy atmosphere of the Turn Of a Friendly Card.

He wondered about the club's name for a moment. From his captor's mind came a lost fragment:

Everything is a gamble, but some things more so. Survival matters over all, and it is a game that all must play. But it never ends when your whole world depends on the turn of a friendly card. Once you've started to gamble it is very hard to stop, because you've bet your life that your next plot will succeed.

In a mad rush, a thousand near deaths flew past his mind. He caught at a few and listened. Death within a collapsing geometry, saved by the wild chance of a flaw in the mathematical construct. Death by fire, saved by phenomenal luck and a freak pneumismiton flow. Death within a tame black hole, saved by the turn of a friendly Quickening.

Intrigued, Methos pulled the last memory closer.

The blackness inside the non-space of the Eye of Harmony was populated very sparsely; only the Chronovores traversed its emptiness. They fed upon his essence, but found it bitter to the taste. Then the fire came. The TARDIS materialized in the middle of a Quickening. It reached through the upper dimensional space within and manifested as a burning bush of artron energy. He followed it to its source and found himself within the head of Edward Chevalier.

The memory ended.

-Lucky indeed, he thought to himself. -But how does it help? I've got to get out of here. I've got to warn the Doctor.

He concentrated, bringing the real world into focus again. There had to be a way to come into contact with it. There had to be. -I haven't lived 5,000 years just to die now.

* * *

The crowd inside the Turn Of a Friendly Card was so dense the Doctor doubted they could leave if they wanted. When he moved to peer out the windowed front of the club, he saw an equally dense crowd filling the promenade outside. The neighboring clubs were trying desperately to attract the people. But the people didn't listen; they were waiting for Ace of Swords and the New Music.

It wouldn't be long now. The band members were settling into their places on the tiny stage. Colored lights played across their faces as they tuned their instruments and flexed their fingers.

Terri was sitting at a table near the dance floor. It took the Doctor several minutes to worm his way back to their place. No one had infringed upon the table. The Master had announced that only Terri and the Doctor should sit there; the mad dancers had been perfectly happy with this, although they were pressed against the windows in their eagerness to enter the club.

The Doctor sat down next to Terri.

"So," she said. "What's the plan?"

"We wait."

"For what?" She threw her hands up in the air.

The Doctor sighed internally. He didn't want her to be afraid, so he smiled on the outside. "For the Master to make a mistake. It won't be long."

Terri raised an eyebrow at him, but did not challenge him.

A voice came across the loudspeakers. The Master.

"Welcome, friends!" The crowd let out a giddy roar. There was a single spotlight focused on him. "Do you have the power?" The crowd roared again. "Do you want to feel it?" A roar. "Do you want to dance it?" Roar. "Then you can be it!" People were jumping up and down now, screaming their assent. The Doctor set his teeth. This was wrong, although he could not say why.

The Master raised his arms above his head. "Then hear the New Music! I give you Ace of Swords!"

Colored light burst all around the Master, illuminating the band. The guitarist shouted out, the sound carrying even through the howling crowd. "Alright, Ace of Swords instrumental! One, two, three, four . . . ."

And the music began. The crowd, all on White Lightning, began to dance. It reminded the Doctor of the old Earth stories about fairy music and the way it forced people to dance as long as the music went on. But the young people around him seemed truly to be enjoying themselves. It was almost as though they had forgotten themselves.

Forgotten themselves . . . .

The Doctor's eyes went wide. "Oh, no," he breathed. Terri leaned across the table and put a hand on his shoulder. She said something to him, but the words were lost in the noise.

He stood suddenly, knocking over his chair. Startled, Terri stood too, but he ignored her. He had a horrible feeling that the Master was planning to create some kind of gestalt.

As if answering his fears, the air became thick with telepathic activity. Like a great lumbering beast awakened for the first time, a dull sentience was stirring in the air. He looked up to the stage. The Master was still standing there, waiting.

-But waiting for what?

The band segued into a song.

"Snake eyes

Seven eleven

Don't let me down now"

The Doctor stared up at the Master. The Master was looking straight at him, meeting his gaze with a smirk.

"Gimme

Snake eyes

Take me to heaven

Don't let me down tonight"

And then he saw it.

Supernatural lines of force were drawing the synthetic mist into sweeping forms, converging on the Master. He was laughing and drinking it all in. Terri could see it too, although she probably did not understand it. She gaped at the mist as it bent, curled, and shifted into a massive psychic funnel.

Through the White Lightning, a gestalt had formed. And the Master was drinking it in.

"No!" shouted the Doctor, and he ran at the stage. The crowd parted unconsciously before him and he met no resistence until he was within a few feet of the Master.

Lightning exploded within his mind. He jammed his hands against his temples, but it did nothing to ease the pain. He looked up through a haze of sensation at the Master.

*You never learn, do you, Doctor?*

The voice was the Master's. The voice of the Master as the Doctor had first known him, before the long chain of stolen bodies. The cultured, feline voice of the thirteenth incarnation of the Master. He was speaking in the Doctor's mind, rather than through Methos' lips.

Rallying his strength, the Doctor replied. *I learn what it takes to defeat you, Master!*

Laughter. The dancing bodies faded away from the Doctor's perception as he focused all his mental energies on the Master. *Fight all you want, Doctor, the battle is mine!*

*Never!* He threw himself against the Master's mental force, driving against the evil Time Lord with all the strength he could muster. But his charge slammed into a brick wall as the gestalt force slammed down around the Master.

*I have the Power, Doctor! More power than these pitiful Immortals ever dreamed of, but a power to which they could aspire if only they could see past their ridiculous Game.*

The Doctor gasped with pain and tried to regroup. *You played that Game yourself, Master.*

*As an amusement, my dear Doctor, as an amusement!*

*Only you would kill for amusement.*

*Thank you!* A blue haze began to appear around the Doctor's vision. *But you I will kill for the novelty. Pity. I'm going to miss our little battles.*

A terrific stabbing pain drove into the Doctor's skull and he screamed.

*Die, my dear Doctor, die! Die by the power of these wretched humans you like so much. What could be more appropriate?*

The blue haze turned orange, then red, then faded to black.

* * *

The colors rushing through the blackness dazzled Methos. Somehow he knew that this was what the Master had been planning: the drawing of mental energy from hundreds of humans on White Lightning.

Gradually the pressure of oblivion was lifting from his mind. He listened to the music, to the shouting, to the laughter, and to a horrible scream.

A scream?

He concentrated until he could see again. There was an eldritch glow in the air. After a moment he recognized it as stage lighting. But the strange, twisting patterns in the mist could not be explained. They seemed to be focused on him.

He looked down and saw Terri bending over the Doctor. He was kneeling before the stage, doubled over in pain. It was he that was screaming.

-Oh, no, he thought. -I'm too late.

Frantically he pushed up through the layers of wakefulness, punching through each membrane while the Master focused instead on the Doctor.

After a time, he could hear voices inside his head. Hundreds of voices, but one was louder than the others. *You will die, Doctor!*

It was almost over. He could feel the Doctor's mind within the gestalt, beginning to crumple under the massive pressure from above.

"No!" shouted Methos.

And he burst through the last layer.

* * *

"No!" shouted the Master.

Terri stared up at the stage as she knelt with one hand on the Doctor's shoulder. The Master cried out, then collapsed in a heap. A shudder went through the Doctor and she looked back down at the Time Lord.

"No . . . no . . . no . . . ," mumbled the Doctor, shaking his head weakly. He was covered with sweat. Terri could feel it even through his coat.

There was a snarl from the stage. Terri looked back to see the Master stand again. But the lines in the mist had changed. They no longer pointed at the Master, or indeed in any one direction.

His eyes widened. The mist came together and coalesced. The dancers were swaying in perfect unison and the band had fallen from Alan Parsons into a perpetual rhythm.

The mist hung above the dancers for a moment, then fell screaming down on the stage. Even afterwards, Terri was convinced that it had screamed; no one else remembered this part, so she never discovered if it was true or if her mind had invented the predatory howl.

The Master looked up at the mist as it came rushing down on him. He barely had time to throw his hands over his head before it enveloped him completely.

There was an audible snap, then silence.

The temperature fell by several degrees. The band dropped their instruments. The dancers stopped swaying. The mist gradually dispersed.

Someone turned the main lights on. Terri looked around at a widening circle of sweaty, confused dancers. Some were scratching their heads, others mumbled questions.

The Master . . . Methos . . . lay unmoving on the stage. At her feet lay the Doctor, curled into a ball. Sweat rolled off the Doctor's curly hair, evaporating in the suddenly cool air.

Terri rolled the Doctor onto his back and put her hand over his mouth.

"Oh God," she said. "He's not breathing."

.

(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


	8. Episode Eight

**EPISODE EIGHT: The End**

 _"But time  
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)  
To the sea, to the sea  
Till it's gone forever  
Gone forever  
Gone forevermore."  
\- "Time," the Alan Parsons Project_

* * *

Terri bent low over the Doctor. Around her, the young people of the Twin Cities milled aimlessly around the Turn Of a Friendly Card nightclub. They didn't seem to know what to do with themselves, now that the White Lightning was gone.

Sweat rolled off the Doctor's curly hair, evaporating in the suddenly cool air. Terri rolled him onto his back and put her hand over his mouth.

"Oh God," she said. "He's not breathing."

She looked up at the stage. The body of her friend Methos lay in a silent heap in front of a ring of dazed musicians. The body inhabited by the Master.

Terri's hands curled into fists. "You bastard," she said. "You bastard!"

She rose to her feet and covered the distance to the stage in less than a second. Not bothering to take the stairs, she grabbed the edge of the stage and swung herself up alongside the Master.

She kicked him. "Get up," she spat. "Get up so I can kill you!"

There was no response.

Terri felt the eyes of all the confused dancers on her. She gave the motionless body a nudge with her toe. "Come on, you bastard," she said.

There was still no response.

Terri dropped slowly to her knees. She reached cautiously for his wrist, keeping an eye on his face all the time. She checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

She exhaled and dropped her head to her chest. "Shit," she said, very calmly. The energy of her mad rush slowly drained out of her. The Doctor was dead, and now so was Methos. With any luck, the Master was dead too.

Her eyes filled with tears. Too tired to care, she let them spill over and run down her cheeks.

All dead. And there was nothing she could do.

She looked down at Methos' wrist, still clasped between her thumb and forefingers. -No tattoo, she thought. -He had one before. Maybe it was drawn on.

Gone. All gone. And with the Master gone too, she couldn't even avenge them.

A shuddering wave of sorrow went through her body and she sobbed in time with it. "Damn you, Master," she whispered. "Damn you to hell."

In deference to her sorrow, the musicians backed slowly away. A hush fell over the crowd. The only sound was Terri's grief.

After a time, the crowd filed slowly out. The musicians left. They would remember this day forever, understanding what had happened but never talking of it again.

It was finally over.

* * *

The tears were drying on Terri's cheeks. She looked around at the empty club, wondering where the people had gone.

She lifted her head to speak, but could think of nothing to say.

The wrist in her hand twisted suddenly around. A hand wrapped tightly around her own wrist.

"Yaah!" Terri shouted, jolting backwards.

"Relax," said Methos, sitting up.

He let go of her wrist. She put her hand to her chest to slow the furious pounding of her heart. "Jesus, Methos . . . ." She looked him in the eye. "It is you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "The Master is gone."

Terri sighed. "That is good to hear. I thought you were dead, Methos."

He shook his head and grinned. "I'm Immortal, remember?"

Terri smiled faintly. She let her shoulders drop. "But the Doctor . . . the Doctor's dead, Methos. He's dead!" She bit her lip to control the trembling, but it was not enough. A fresh bout of sobbing ran through her.

Methos put his arms around Terri. She let her head fall against his collarbone and sobbed into the black silk he was wearing. "I tried to fight," he said, "but I didn't know how." He stroked her hair. Gradually she calmed down. "It was the Doctor who defeated him. He talked to the gestalt mind of all the dancers. When I surfaced, they fought back against the Master." Terri stopped sobbing and listened. "Against all the odds, the Doctor still won."

Terri pulled away and looked Methos in the eye. "But he died. How can you say that he won?"

Methos gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "Terri, how can you be sure he's dead?"

She blinked a few times. "But . . . he wasn't breathing . . . ."

"Terri, he's a Time Lord."

"But . . . I . . . ."

There was a groan. Methos grinned. "Told you so."

Terri's eyes widened. Her heart flipped in her chest. Taking her lip carefully between her teeth, she turned.

The Doctor was alive.

He was half-sitting half-lying on the floor, one hand on his forehead as he looked around him.

The Doctor was alive!

Terri's face broke into a smile. She slid off the stage and ran across the dance floor to the Time Lord's side. "Doctor!"

He looked up, his fingers caught in his auburn curls. "Terri?" He smiled. "Terri!"

She slid the last three feet, dropping into a kneeling position. "Dear God, are you all right? I thought you were dead!"

He shrugged, then winced. "No, I wasn't dead. Just in psychic shock, I'm afraid. The Master hit me with quite a blow . . . ." Suddenly he exploded from the ground and was on his feet. "The Master! What happened?"

"The Master is dead," said Methos, hopping nimbly down from the stage. He strolled across the dance stage. He stopped alongside Terri.

"Methos?" said the Doctor.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging.

Terri sighed, then finally gave up and hugged the Doctor. "I was so afraid," she said into his cravat.

He hugged her back. "Brave heart."

"Afraid for you, silly."

He tousled her hair. "I know," he said, smiling.

* * *

The late afternoon sun shone down on Fort Snelling State Park, glistening off the Minnesota River and sending animals to seek shade. Three people stopped in the vast shadow of the Mendota Bridge, not far from a blue police box. Only one of them was younger than the bridge.

The Doctor looked up at the silent grey arches. "Did you know," he said, "that this was the longest concrete arch bridge in the world when it was built?"

Terri smiled. "Yeah, I knew that." Her smile seemed forced. The Doctor felt a twinge in his hearts. Suddenly he was afraid.

A jet roared overhead. They waited for the sound to stop.

"Well, Methos," said the Doctor, "I'm sorry you missed your flight."

"It was an adventure," said Methos.

"I can give you a ride in my TARDIS," he said. "After all, it's my fault in a way."

"What do you mean?" asked the Immortal.

The Doctor stared up into the shadowed recesses of the bridge. If he strained his ears he could catch the sound of nesting birds. "I thought I'd purged the TARDIS of the Master, but I was wrong." He looked back at the two humans. One young but acting old, one old but acting young.

Terri laughed. "You don't change, do you, Doctor?" Her eyes were serious. "You could never have known he was still alive."

Methos nodded. "And now we know he's dead."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Do we?" He sighed. "Maybe I'm getting paranoid in my old age, but I can't help thinking he'll escape."

"You're not old," said Methos.

The Doctor met the Immortal's eye but did not answer.

"So," said Terri, "what about the spaceship?" A mosquito landed on her arm. She slapped at it without noticing, killing the insect.

"The N'Vrokten ship?" asked the Doctor. He smiled. "Ask Methos."

Terri frowned. "Methos?"

The Immortal nodded. "I caught a few things from the Master. I know that he set the ship to take off automatically. It's gone by now."

The Doctor smiled. "Very good! Once inside the TARDIS I'll send a message to the N'Vrokten government. They'll retrieve the ship from hyperspace."

"Hyperspace?" asked Terri. She was frowning.

"I'll explain one day," he said and turned towards the TARDIS. He dug his key out of his velvet coat pocket.

"No," said Terri. "You won't."

The Doctor turned. The twinge in his hearts returned. "Aren't you coming?"

"No," said Terri. She stepped up to him. "I . . . ." She sighed. "I'm going to miss you, Doctor." He stood silent. He knew how this went. "But in the past two months I've put my life back together. I'm back in the Watchers, for one thing. It's not that I don't want to go with you, it's . . . oh . . . ."

The Doctor nodded. "I understand." Terri looked up, surprised. He rummaged in his pocket until he found a bag. He handed it to her. "Happy journeys, Terri."

She took the bag without a word.

He looked across at Methos. "Are you coming?"

"Just to Seacouver?"

"Just to Seacouver, I promise." He smiled. "Let's go."

"Doctor!"

Terri was still there. "Before you go, I . . . oh, heck." She ran up to him and threw her arms around him. "Take care. And for God's sake, please let the Universe take care of itself once in awhile!"

He pulled back. She was grinning, but he could see the tears in her eyes. He pretended not to notice.

"I'll miss you too, Terri."

"Doctor!" called Methos, already at the TARDIS door.

"Coming!" he called back. "Goodbye, Terri."

"Goodbye, Doctor."

And he turned to let Methos into the TARDIS.

Terri stood in the hot summer air watching a police box as if it were the most important thing in the world. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not cry. The mosquitos were biting. She didn't seem to notice.

There was a thump. The light began flashing. With a wheeze and a groan, the TARDIS faded from reality.

Terri stood staring for several minutes. When she was sure it was gone completely, she began the slow hike back to the parking lot.

She looked into the paper bag the Doctor had given her. It was full of jellybabies. Grinning, she pulled one out of the bag and ate it. With a spring in her step and a song in her heart, she skipped down the trail.

The birds were singing above the river. Terri sang along.

 _"Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever  
Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me  
Who knows when we shall meet again  
If ever  
But time  
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)  
To the sea, to the sea"  
\- "Time," The Alan Parsons Project"_

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(c) 1998, Kirstin Jones (née Beall)/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under terms of service


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